


for you (i'd bleed myself dry).

by skysplits, TheSpearDanes



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5500880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysplits/pseuds/skysplits, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpearDanes/pseuds/TheSpearDanes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stars are yellow, but her eyes were blue. Tobin's not supposed to be doing this alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue.

_July 2, 2044.  
_

 

It’s loud. Tobin doesn’t remember it being this loud. Or this big.

 

There’s also a lot more people, she thinks. Loud, big people, all dressed in red and white and blue, voices raised in a singular cry.

 

“USA _._ ” Their voices glorify the three letters as they shout them, each time around building on the power and excitement of the previous one. “USA!”

 

Tobin has seen a lot of packed stadiums in her time.

 

She’s never seen any like this.

 

\------------

 

_“USA, USA!”_

 

_She can't breathe. Her body’s trying, but she's so tired that everything in her just wants to lay down and stop. She can’t see right, and her eyes sting from sweat dripping into them and blurring her sight. The world looks hazy to her, undefined. She can barely see the two players in front of her, both in opposing kits, as they come flying towards her, not breathing half as hard and looking twice as strong and energized than she is._

 

_The US had run out of subs an hour ago, and had been playing a man down since the red card._

 

_Tobin’s been running since the first whistle, the entire 110 minutes, or however long it's been now._

 

 _Her body’s starting to stop responding to her. Outside stimulus is no longer of interest in her fatigued state, and it's a miracle she's even able to keep the ball at her feet as the two defenders descend upon her. She moves and her body screams its denial at her, demands she halt everything she's doing so she can lay down and rest, but she doesn't listen, keeps pushing, and it hurts but she just has to make it a_ little _farther, just has to push on a_ few _more minutes._

 

_That’s how she’s made it to this level, how she climbed her way to the top. When her body says no, her mind still says yes. So she’ll keep pushing for as long as the referee lets her._

 

_She can't see the crowd, or her other midfielder, or even the goal. Everything looks blended--indistinguishable._

 

_Everything but her._

 

_“Tobin!” she calls out to her, and her head snaps up obediently to find her and track her as she makes her run, long legs striking the pitch hard and propelling her forward at a dangerous speed. She’s got that look to her, that fiery determination that lets Tobin know that this is it. She’s hung on just long enough, and that if she gives her the ball now, she’ll receive the rest she so desperately needs. “Tobin now!”_

 

_She’s not the only one calling her name, not the only one screaming for the ball, but she’s the only one that Tobin hears, that Tobin sees._

 

 _She doesn't feel herself strike the ball, doesn't see it leave her foot. Her eyes are glued to_ her _, unwilling to part from her image as she moves into position to receive._

 

_She watches as she collects it, beats her defender, cuts far inside and carries the ball into the box, steady and thorough and firm in her movements._

 

_The defenders swarm her, try to beat down her fire, but they catch only the trail of smoke that she leaves behind as she navigates through them with ease._

 

_She's in striking range before anyone knows better, and then she's winding up, gathering all her power into her legs, and then--_

 

_The entire world descends into chaotic noise as the ball hits the back of the net, and even though her body is screaming, Tobin’s screaming too, shouting her name, praising her along with everyone else because by God, she’s done it again--she’s saved them once more._

 

_Sweat and tears run down Tobin’s face as she slows down and takes her first deep breath, intent to slow the pounding of her heart, the quivering of her body._

 

_And then she’s there, running to her before she fades from her, blue eyes alive and storming, lips split in a wide, triumphant grin._

 

_She throws herself onto Tobin, wraps her arms around her and clings, and it's all Tobin can do to not topple over into the ground._

 

 _Tobin holds her tight to her, presses her into the places where it hurts the most, and lets her presence soothe the most violent spots of pain. She breathes her in--all of her--and revels in the scent of sweat and blood and grass, revels in the smell of victory, of_ her _._

 

_The stadium is so alive and filled with sounds of celebration that Tobin can't for the life of her make out what she’s saying, but when she snuggles into her and places a hidden kiss to her beating pulse point, she thinks she can work it out._

 

_“I love you too,” she repeats back, her hands strong at her waist._

 

_Her soft blue eyes glitter down at her, distinctly unattainable._

 

_It all seems about right._

 

_\------------_

 

The crowd groans as yet another shot goes wide. They’ve got only minutes left to make something happen, and the people around her are starting to lose faith.

 

Tobin’s learned by now that faith isn't something that should ever be lost, but as the clock continues to tick down, she understands their anxiety.

 

She feels it too, pooling aggressively in the pit of her stomach, but for different reasons.

 

The crowd screams for the team to succeed, but her hopes lie singularly in one person.

 

She feels like she’s been playing sixty minutes the way her heart beats when down on the side of the pitch, on the bench, a girl with striking blue eyes and the number thirteen on her back is called to her feet.

 

A groan goes up from beside her and her head snaps to the source of the sound, her brow furrowing.

 

“Come on,” the man sighs. “We need a real playmaker. Why are they using our last sub on _her_.”

 

Tobin bristles, because clearly he understands _nothing_ about the team, or about that girl, and her mouth is opening to tell him just how wrong he is--and how stupid--when a gentle hand settles over her wrist, calling her attention away.

 

Lauren smiles softly at her, shakes her head and redirects her attention to the pitch before turning to address the man.

 

“She’s going to win them the game,” she tells him, and there's such an excitement in her voice that Tobin knows she means it, and her hand tightens on Lauren's in thanks for everything--for helping her, for being there for her, for caring about them both.

 

The girl moves towards the fourth official on shaky, nervous legs, and Tobin watches her with every step she takes.

 

Lauren’s got a megawatt smile going, and Tobin can’t help but direct it back at her.

 

“Here she is,” Lauren tells her, points as they display her name on the scoreboard.

 

\------------

 

 _“Here she is,”_ _The nurse says, shoving a soft blue blanket into her arms and leaving her to stare down, stunned._

 

'She?'

 

 _The little “she” is bright red from screaming. It’s kind of nice to hear such an angry, hateful sound, because such emotions boil sickeningly within Tobin, and she’d like nothing more than to let them out the same way this tiny girl does, beating her small pink fists against her own tan skin and just shrieking, wailing because all she wants is her mom, and instead she’s had to suffer through the foreign hands of the nurse, and now she’s in Tobin’s arms and she sure as_ hell _doesn’t want her either._

 

 _It calms Tobin down a little bit, knowing that someone else wants_ her _as much as she does._

 

 _Then the little thing squirms, flails, and almost rolls her way out of Tobin’s arms and onto the floor, and Tobin’s everything but calm as she chokes back a gasp and settles a stronger grip on the infant and sits down quickly, because_ Jesus _that’s the last thing that needs to happen right now._

 

_The crying starts to give her a headache, and she wonders how such tiny lungs can produce such a huge, unrelenting sound. She figures that she’ll eventually tire herself out, but apparently there’s no parameters to be met when it comes to a newborn child screaming out for it’s mother, because if anything she gets louder, and it’s not like Tobin can tell her to shut up, because a) she wouldn’t understand, and b) Pamela and Michael are just across the room, as white faced and tear stricken as she is. But where her own is simple devastation, theirs is anger, raw and full of blame, and worst of all--directed at her._

 

_She knows that the second she proves herself unworthy to hold onto this little being, they’ll swoop in and take her._

 

_As her crying continues however, she starts to wonder if that would be such a bad thing, to be rid of this squirming, wriggling mass._

 

 _Then she opens her eyes as if Tobin spoke her thoughts out loud and stares her down, and her eyes are big and beautiful and_ blue _and--_

 

_Tobin can’t breathe, can’t swallow._

 

_The gaping hole in her chest starts to burn, and her heart starts to pound._

 

_She didn’t think those blue eyes would ever look up at her again._

 

_They make her strong, even when she’s incurably, desperately weak._

 

_She holds the little blue-eyed bundle tighter and starts returning some of the angry glares that the couple across the room sends her way._

 

_She can do this, as long as those blue eyes keep staring up at her. Those eyes which, until that very moment, had only ever belonged to one person, the person Tobin loves--had loved, will always love-- the most._

 

_She grabs a little fist gently in her own hand, squeezes it softly and tries to comfort her, tries to ease her fear, because she may not be the one she wants, but she’s her mother too. And Tobin’s not about to lose anyone else today, especially not her, not when she’s all that’s left._

 

'I can be brave,' _she thinks to herself._

 

'As long as she’s here, I can be brave.'

 

\------------

 

The number thirteen is all that Tobin sees as the girl stands at the fifty, waiting to go in. She smooths her hair down nervously, fixes the pink pre-wrap she had so carefully placed in it this morning.

 

_“So you can see me on the field,” she had told her with a silly smile and a playful glint in her blue eyes._

 

As if Tobin wouldn’t be able to find her. As if she’d dare look anywhere else but at her.

 

The girl suddenly turns and spins, searches the stands, and Lauren stands up and waves wildly, and before she really knows what she’s doing, Tobin’s on her feet doing the same until the girl’s face lights up in a smile and she waves back, shouting words that don’t quite make it to Tobin’s ears.

 

She knows her face well enough though, knows the way her mouth forms _that_ word with enough proficiency to understand that she’s calling out to her, letting her know that she’s seen her.

 

“Mom!” her lips read, spread wide and happy in a smile.

 

\------------

 

_“Mom! I want my mom!" She’s screaming so loudly it makes Tobin’s ears ring, makes her feel sick and dizzy, because she doesn’t know what to do, can’t do anything except stand uselessly by her side and let her hand go numb from how tight she’s gripping it._

 

_“It hurts!” she wails, throws her head back against the pillows as her body contracts in agony, and Tobin tries to brush the hair, stuck to her forehead from sweat, away from her face but she thrashes again, screams, and Tobin thinks she might start crying._

 

_She flashes a panicked look at the doctors that crowd around them, some primal, guttural noise rising up in her throat, one that begs them to make her better, to make the pain stop._

 

_“You’re fine,” one of the nurses say, running a cloth across her pained face before looking up at Tobin. “She’s doing great, it’s going to be fine,” She continues, and then turns back to assist the doctors._

 

_The words aren’t soothing though, because Tobin knows that it’s not fine, that she’s not doing great, that something is very wrong because less than two minutes ago one of the doctors said, “This isn’t good.” Said, “Something’s not right.” Said, “There’s too much blood.” And then said the worst of them all: “We’re starting to lose the baby.”_

 

_And yet, Tobin’s still supposed to stand next to her, locked in the vices of her grip and pain and crying eyes, and is expected to repeat over and over again, “It’s fine. You’re doing great, it’s fine. You’re doing great,” until maybe she starts to believe her, until maybe that’s what actually starts happening._

 

_About fifteen minutes previous, when her cries started to sharpen and turn to screams, Tobin started praying to God._

 

'Just keep her eyes open. I’ll do anything, I’ll do everything, just keep her eyes open.'

 

_Her eyes are starting to close._

 

_The nurse keeps screaming at her to push--so loudly that Tobin wants to hit her, to scream back at her-- but she’s done, all tuckered out, far past fatigue in the way she sits, sobbing and screaming, covered in her own sweat and blood, repeating in an endless mantra. “Tobin, it hurts, Tobin. It hurts, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!”_

 

_Tobin thought she knew what chaos was like, but she was wrong._

 

_This is chaos, this is agony, watching the life ebb out of the only person she needs to keep living._

 

_“Just stay with me a little while,” Tobin breathes out, pushing her lips against her forehead, tasting the salt there, “Just a little while longer. I promise, I promise.”_

 

_Her eyes close all the way, and her screams grow louder._

 

_Relief comes for a short moment when her screams suddenly cut off, when she gives a big whooshing breath of relief and high pitched, smaller, watery cries fill the room, and the nurses all coo and smile._

 

_Alex’s hand releases hers then, pushes at her arm insistently._

 

_“Go get him,” she demands, breathless and panting and shaking. “Tobin he’s scared. Go get him please. Make sure he’s okay.”_

 

_Tobin kisses her quickly, then does as she’s told and heads over to where he should be._

 

_She never gets there._

 

_The doctors start yelling, she starts screaming again, and the baby’s wails echo off the walls._

 

_“Get her out of here!” is all Tobin hears, and she panics, tries to get back to her side, where she can keep her safe. But strong hands grab her and push her from the room before she can summon the will to fight._

 

_The last thing she sees are blue eyes, wide with panic, glossy with fear._

 

_“Tobin!”_

 

\------------

 

“Tobin?” Lauren’s looking at her with concern.

 

Tobin takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to steady herself.

 

Down on the pitch, the blue eyed girl steps onto the field, and the stadium erupts again with sound.

 

It’s loud.

 

Tobin doesn’t remember it being this loud.

 


	2. chapter 1.

_March 20, 2010_

 

Tobin Heath has always loved Alex Morgan.

 

Somehow, Alex Morgan has also always loved Tobin Heath.

 

It begins slowly, with baby steps, but eventually spirals beyond both of their control.

 

Love is like that.

 

It grows quickly, without parameters. One day they’re just themselves, the next they wake up and realize that they’re nothing without the other.

 

Tobin supposes it starts their very first camp, when she doesn’t immediately run and hide after beating Alex at monopoly deal--even as the younger girl starts treating her less like a person and more like a punching bag.

 

A punching bag for _affection_ Alex pleads as Tobin wrestles her to the ground and tickles her mercilessly, not stopping until Alex’s face is flushed red, her breaths coming fast.

 

Tobin is about to argue that there’s no such thing, but stops in her tracks when she feels Alex’s breath on her neck. She can hear the young striker’s heartbeat under the US crest that dons her training clothes. She can see the way Alex’s eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips, then back up. She can feel the way Alex’s hands tighten around her upper arms to pull her closer instead of pushing her away.

 

There really isn’t much Tobin can do after that except lean down and kiss her.

 

It’s soft, warm, exactly as one would expect, but that’s not what seals the deal for Tobin.

 

When they break apart and she looks back down at Alex, her eyes are a brilliant blue. They’re two big, bright planets that have Tobin more than captivated.

 

“You have _really_ pretty eyes,” she states bluntly, staring down at Alex, missing the way her cheeks warm to a lovely shade of red at her compliment.

 

“You’re a dork,” Alex says.

 

She keeps kissing her anyways, so Alex Morgan must have a thing for dorks, or maybe the compliment sweetens her a little more than she cares to let on.

 

Tobin prefers the former to the latter.

 

* * *

_March 28, 2010._

 

First dates have always been Tobin’s thing. Besides soccer, it’s the one thing Tobin knows she’s good at. But for some goddamn reason, nothing she thinks of is good enough for this first date with Alex.

 

So she’s lying on her back, head hanging off the hotel bed as Kelley scrolls through her laptop, a Google search page for, “best first date ideas” pulled up.

 

“Aquarium?”

 

“No.”

 

“Theme park?”

 

“How much money do you think I make? We literally get the same paychecks, Kell.”

 

“Clubbing?”

 

“She and I just became a thing. It’s probably not the best idea for her to see me dance.”

 

“What? You’re not up for a little bump and grind?” Kelley asks, and then giggles when Tobin’s face becomes roughly akin to the color of a tomato.

 

“Shut it. I’ll bump and grind on you,” Tobin tells her, rolling her eyes and shoving her shoulder with a sock clad foot.

 

“Oooh. Bring it Toby,” Kelley taunts, but Tobin just sighs and sits up, pushing her hair out of her face.

 

“It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate,” she says, pulling the laptop towards herself, ignoring Kelley’s whining as she grabs her prized possession, “It just has to be…”

 

“Special?” Kelley smirks, making her voice disgustingly sweet on purpose, and Tobin groans once more.

 

“When you put it like _that_ you make it sound gross,” Tobin sighs.

 

Kelley plops down beside her, rests her head on her shoulder, cuddling up to her without problem.

 

“That’s because it is kinda gross, Tobs,” Kelley says, her nose wrinkling cutely. “You like her, Tobin. You _like,_  like her. You like the _Baby Horse_ ,” Kelley snickers, and Tobin throws her an elbow which she scrambles to avoid.

 

“Don’t call her that,” Tobin defends loyally. “She doesn’t like it.”

 

Kelley rolls her eyes so hard Tobin swears they’ll roll out onto the floor.

 

“Well, what does she like, Tobin? Nail polish? Rom-Com’s? Football players?”

 

Tobin flashes Kelley an unamused look.

 

“No Kell, I think that’s just you,” she says and pokes her in the side. “She likes normal stuff, ya know? Soccer, winning, and...” Tobin’s eyes flit briefly to the laptop screen, “Long romantic walks on the beach?”

 

Kelley makes a gagging sound. Tobin doesn’t even have to say anything for Kelley to know she agrees.

 

In the end, Tobin decides she’ll just have to wing it.

 

Oddly enough, Alex ends up winging _her._

 

When it first happens, Tobin doesn’t realize it.

 

The two are sitting in the airport, the only two national team members left waiting to go home. Tobin’s still thinking of first date ideas and staring off into the distance when Alex interrupts her thoughts.

 

“What are you eating, Tobs?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, sorry--I was thinking about something,” Tobin scrambles. She tries to look nonchalant, but fails, looking more like a puppy caught on the couch. “Arby’s burger. Want a bite?”

 

If Alex notices anything weird, she pretends not to see. “Yeah, actually. It smells ridiculous.”

 

The younger girl waits patiently as Tobin hands her the burger, then quickly takes a bite. And before Tobin can figure out what’s going on, there’s a finger in her face and a triumphant looking Alex Morgan at the other end of it.

 

“Ha! This is it! Will you just _chill_ out now, Tobs?” Alex practically shouts, her mouth full of food.

 

“What are you talking about?” Tobin asks, gently moving Alex’s finger away from her face. “And, jeez, Lex. Lower your voice. People are staring.”

 

“Kelley told me.” Tobin quirks her eyebrow at the vague statement, which causes Alex to roll her eyes. She swallows and says, “Being nervous about asking me out.”

 

Tobin baulks for a moment, stares at Alex with an open mouth and startled eyes.

 

 _‘I’m going to kill Kelley_ ,’ she thinks to herself.

 

“I never said I was nervous,” Tobin protests, stuttering a bit as she trips over her words in her haste to get them out. “And there’s no way this is a date, Al. We’re sitting in an airport, for crying out loud,” Tobin says, crossing her arms, as if the motion will prove her point.

 

Alex just smirks and wolfs down another bite of Tobin’s burger. “An airport with an _Arby’s,_ Tobin,” she says, as if the fact makes any difference.

 

Tobin pulls a face, one Alex must not like very much, because she shoves the burger right onto Tobin’s lips so she doesn’t have to see it.

 

“Ew Alex, no!” Tobin yelps as she gets sauce all over herself, and scurries away quickly from her giggling attacker.

 

They must truly be a sight to see, two young women, one chasing the other around the small terminal with a rather battered hamburger clutched in her hand, the other begging her feverishly to stop.

 

They eventually settle down when Alex threatens to eat the entire burger if Tobin doesn’t return to her, and the threat alone--nevermind the gorgeous girl giving it-- is enough to coax Tobin back to her side, hand extended.

 

“Don’t you dare Alex Morgan,” she warns her, reaching for the sandwich that Alex repeatedly dangles away from her. “I paid seven dollars for that.”

 

Alex rolls her eyes and takes another nibbling bite.

 

“Cheap date,” she says, a bright mirth playing about within her eyes. “Kelley said you were supposed to be good at this.”

 

“This isn’t a date,” Tobin grumbles, and then starts to feel a little panicky, because she feels like she’s messing this all up, going about everything the wrong way.

 

Also, she hasn’t eaten since noon, a whole eight hours ago, and her growling stomach mixed with her poor abused hamburger, held captive by Alex’s unforgiving hand, doesn’t exactly inspire a wide array of happy emotions within her.

 

“Al _ex_ ,” she whines, starting to beg, staring up at her with puppy eyes that literally work on anyone else but the girl she’s trying to convince. “Alex, _I want it_ ,” she pleads, but the striker just shakes her head, her smile wide, her cat eyes glittering.

 

She keeps backing away, keeps forcing Tobin to follow her.

 

“Say please,” she demands with a tilt of her head, a curl of her lips.

 

“ _Please_.”

 

“Say it’s a date,” she continues, still backing up, leading her along.

 

“It’s not a--” Tobin starts, but stops immediately as Alex makes a big show of eating more of the hamburger. “Okay, okay. Don’t do anything rash. It’s a date,” Tobin quickly agrees.

 

Alex grins and finally stops her walking, crosses her arms and shifts her weight, her lips pursing in deliberation.

 

“And we go halfsies,” Alex quickly asserts, and almost loses it when Tobin’s jaw drops.

 

“There’s like, nothing left!” she tells her, pouting, but Alex maintains her position with a quizzical eye and a pointed brow.

 

“Halfsies or nonesies,” she taunts, and then laughs when Tobin crinkles her nose in distaste.

 

“Fine, you monster. Take your half, but _I_ get the pickle,” Tobin huffs,and then snatches up her own part when Alex offers it to her without much fight.

 

“Whatever,” Alex says indifferently, lacing her arm between Tobin’s as they head back to their terminal. “The pickle is the worst part.”

 

Tobin turns to her, aghast.

 

“ _You’re_ the worst part. I can’t believe I have to share my hamburger with you.”

 

They sit side by side near the airport window and watch the planes land, bright lights among dark clouds, until their flight numbers are called.

 

All in all, it’s not a bad start.

 

* * *

_October 14, 2010._

 

Tobin tells her by accident.

 

She’s trying to impress her when it happens. Alex knows absolutely nothing about skateboards, or longboards, or any kind of board, really, so Tobin decides to give her a bit of a show--maybe too much of a show. And well, one thing leads to another, and suddenly Tobin’s flat on her ass.

 

Worst of all isn’t even that it hurts--it’s that Alex is doubled over with laughter, unable to string her syllables into words, because Tobin ran right into a pole.

 

Tobin sits on the ground sorely and pouts, body throbbing--her face in particular-- and nose bleeding, flashing dirty looks at her long board that lies upside down a few feet from her, wheels spinning freely.

 

Alex still can’t breathe, but she does stumble towards her, clutching her sides and trying to hide the wide smile on her face.

 

“Tobin,” she giggles wildly, unable to stop herself as she approaches her, and Tobin huffs angrily, her cheeks burning red. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

 

“Yeah me neither,” Tobin grumbles, rubbing at her cheek which she also has managed to gash.

 

There’s actually a lot of blood coming out of various parts of Tobin, and she’s not exactly sure how she feels about it.

 

Tobin’s not a fan of blood.

 

Alex reaches down, gently grabs her scraped up hands and pulls her to her feet, holding her steady when she winces and wobbles, a pain shooting through her knee.

 

Tobin looks down and--yup, her knee is bleeding too, the unforgiving concrete having ripped through her jeans and skinned the top of the appendage.

 

“Ow,” she says curiously, examining her knee and then her hands respectively.

 

Alex sighs and tsks her tongue, running her hands soothingly up Tobin’s arms, squeezing them with gentle reassurance.

 

“Oh Toby,” she sighs and shakes her head before leaning forwards and kissing her injured nose softly, sweetly. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?” she asks.

 

“Kay,” Tobin sniffs, rubbing at her nose, and then jolts a bit as more pain rocks through her, and Alex sighs and grabs her hands carefully in her own.

 

Alex stoops down and grabs Tobin’s longboard when she makes no move towards it, smiling slightly as she stands back up and takes Tobin’s hand.

 

“We’ll put him in timeout,” she promises, tugging Tobin inside, and Tobin stumbles along after her obediently, still a little disoriented.

 

“It’s a girl,” she tells her, a little spacy, still trying to distract Alex from her previous blunder.

 

“Okay, she’s going into timeout,” Alex says, and then tosses the board into the closet without much affair before pulling Tobin to the bathroom.

 

Tobin doesn’t even feel that bad when she hears the board slam against the floor. If anything, she feels better.

 

Alex takes her and sits her down on the sink before grabbing a washcloth. She wets the fabric with warm water and strokes it softly across the places that hurt most, taking care not to cause any more discomfort.

 

“How did you not see that pole,” Alex asks after a moment, still rather amused, and Tobin sighs deeply, blushes red again and tries not to meet her eyes, which are all too blue in the low lighting of the bathroom.

 

“I guess I was a little distracted,” Tobin says sorely, bitterly, and then looks at her feet until Alex gently tilts her face up so she can dab at her cheek.

 

“Distracted by what?” Alex asks grinning, her nose crinkling adorably. Tobin knows that she knows, understands that she just wants to hear her say it, so she just smirks widely and crosses her arms.

 

“A squirrel,” she says, and it’s almost comical how fast Alex frowns, how she steps away to look at her from a bit of distance, her eyes searching her own to see if she’s actually serious, because it’s actually not that far-fetched.

 

She catches Tobin’s playful smirk and dabs just a little too hard at her nose.

 

“Ow!” Tobin yelps, complaining loudly. “Fine, it was your stupid face, you psychopath. Stop hurting me, be nice,” she whines, and Alex rolls her eyes but goes back to cleaning her up with light touches.

 

“You’re such a big baby for someone who spends seventy percent of her time on the pitch knocked down,” Alex says, and Tobin gasps dramatically while she clutches at her chest.

 

“Some people like to play with _enthusiasm_ , Alex. When I go in, I go all in. You should take notes, really,” Tobin tells her with an important air, and Alex purses her lips at her, raises an eyebrow.

 

“Right, notes,” Alex says dryly. “Okay, step one. Crash my longboard into a pole after self proclaiming myself an ‘expert.’ Proceed to whine to my girlfriend about how much it hurts, and how insensitive she is,” Alex says, and flicks her lightly on the nose, to which Tobin only complains with greater volume. “How am I doing so far, Tobs?” she asks with a smirk.

 

Tobin glowers at her, rubs sourly at her nose.

 

“Terribly,” she huffs. “You’re an awful girlfriend. To think that I’m in love with you,” Tobin says grumpily, but then her eyes widen and Alex’s eyes widen and suddenly the room’s very quiet except for Alex’s quick intake of breath.

 

“Shit,” Tobin says, before she can stop herself, but then Alex’s face splits into a megawatt grin, and her eyes light up like stars, brilliant and beautiful and bright, and--

 

“You love me?” There’s wonder in her voice.

 

“No!” Tobin protests immediately, shakes her head rapidly as her cheeks start to burn, and that’s twice today that she has managed to humiliate herself in front of Alex. “I didn’t say that. Who could love you? Not me, that’s for sure,” she says, speaking quickly, in a rush.

 

“No,” Alex’s voice is all excitement and glee. “No, you loser, you’re blushing! You do, you love me. Tobin Heath loves me,” Alex sings like a four year old, parading around the bathroom as Tobin looks on mortified.

 

“Shut up, shut up, no I don’t,” Tobin whines, pouting. “And I’m still bleeding over here, ya know. That doesn’t just stop on its own.”

 

“You shut up,” Alex tells her, still grinning like a fool as she dances into Tobin’s personal space and kisses her. “You love me. With all your little heart,” Alex continues, and then nips at her nose like it hasn’t just been through the most traumatic accident of its life.

 

Tobin pushes her back and grimaces.

 

“Now you’re just making it sound gross,” she tells her, but a smile starts to break through onto her features as well, and she knows Alex sees it when her blue eyes burn that much brighter.

 

“Excuse me, I’m not the one pouring my feelings out over here,” Alex says, giggling again, and Tobin smiles in surrender before reaching forwards and pulling Alex between her knees and kissing her back--just so she’ll shut up, of course.

 

“The only thing I’m pouring out is blood,” Tobin tells her, poking the gash on her knee and wincing slightly. “You’re terrible at first aid, by the way. Thank goodness you’re a soccer player and not a nurse.”

 

Alex fights a smile and tugs a few strands of Tobin’s hair.

 

“Well if you weren’t so hell bent on proving your love to me--”

 

“That was _not_ me _proving_ my love--”

 

“Then you wouldn’t have smacked into the pole in the first place,” Alex tells her, unable to stop her smiling, her giggling.

 

Tobin finally relents and lowers her head, surrendering to the girl she loves--and yes, she admits, she does actually love her.

 

Her hands run along the backs of the girl’s thighs, keeping her pressed close against her.

 

“What am I going to do with you, Morgan?” she sighs, and kisses her chin, her cheek, her lips, because why the hell not?

 

Alex giggles and snuggles into her neck, pulls her body just as close as Tobin wants and holds herself secure.

 

There’s a moment of silence between them, of simple quiet--one that Tobin revels in.

 

“Tobin?” Alex asks after a moment, and suddenly moves a little nervously, her hands holding tight to Tobin’s sweatshirt and wringing at the fabric.

 

“Yeah, Lex?” Tobin asks with a yawn, her free hand moving to grab the washcloth and continue to wash the blood off of herself.

 

“I love you too. Just so you know.”

 

It’s Tobin’s turn to smile wide then, to move and look at her with teasing eyes before kissing her sweetly.

 

“Alex?” she asks after they break apart, her forehead resting on hers.

 

Alex peers at her questioningly.

 

“Stop being so gross.”

 

* * *

_March 25, 2017._

 

“Alex.” Poke. “Alex.” Poke. “Hey, Alex.” Poke.

 

Tobin _knew_ letting Kelley come to Ikea with them was a bad idea--she just knew it. It was like watching a little kid in a candy shop. Or Kelley in a candy shop.

 

So technically, she really shouldn’t be surprised that Kelley is starting to get under Alex’s skin. She shouldn’t be, but she is.

 

Tobin feels her girlfriend tense next to her, hears her sigh before composing and turning to their friend. “Yes, Kelley?”

 

“So, the new house, for my room--.”

 

“You don’t _get_ a room, Kells.”

 

“Tobin said--.”

 

“Tobin doesn’t make the decisions in this relationship, does she?”

 

Narrowing her eyes, the shorter girl turns to Tobin and continues. “For my room, I’d like the bed with the slide, thanks.”

 

The couple watches helplessly as their friend runs towards an Ikea employee to see what she can do about getting the bed transported to their new house.

 

“Tobin!” Alex scolds, turning towards the older girl. “You told her she could have a room? I thought we specifically agreed that Kelley O’Hara would _not_ be residing in our home.”

 

“Sorry! I was joking!” Tobin says in defense. She can’t help but laugh though, when she sees Kelley dragging the employee back to the section of the store they found the bed in. “I didn’t think she’d take it seriously. When does Kelley ever take things seriously?”

 

Raising her eyebrow, Alex looks pointedly at Tobin’s weak protest. “We are _not_ having a slide-bed that a twenty-nine year-old sleeps in, in our brand new home. We are not going to be _that_ couple.”

 

Nodding in agreement, Tobin slings an arm around Alex’s waist to appease her. “I know, I know. But can we break the news to her tomorrow?” she asks hopeful. “She looked so excited.”

 

Alex grumbles her approval, so Tobin plants a kiss on her cheek in thanks. Looking down at their list, she says “I’m tired of looking for stuff, Lex. You go pay for what we have, and meet me and Kelley outside in the moving truck?”

 

The two go their separate ways, and when Tobin finally finds Kelley, she has to drag her away from the Ikea employee that looks understandably overwhelmed at the sight of the short, freckled woman bombarding him with questions about their shipment fees.

 

“Jeez, Kel,” Tobin says when they’re back in the moving van. “I thought that guy’s eyes were gonna fall out, he was staring at you so hard.”

 

“Well,” Kelley says simply. “I wasn’t asking for anything ridiculous. Just that a few things--.”

 

“A _few_ things?” Tobin questions, her voice raising in disbelief.”

 

“--be delivered tonight in a separate shipment.” Kelley finishes matter-of-factly, as if Tobin never interrupted her. “I even offered a big tip if he could do it.”

 

“Wait, did you order that stuff on our accou--,” Tobin starts, but gets interrupted when Alex enters the van in a huff.

 

“They don’t have our plates,” she says, clearly upset, and the angry blue whirl of her eyes is enough to upset Tobin as well.

 

“What do you mean they don’t--”

 

“They don’t have our _freaking_ plates,” she practically yells.

 

“Watch your language,” Kelley pipes up from across the van, where she sits curiously pulling apart the boxes Tobin has just packaged away, and Tobin has to step forward and pull Alex into her arms to keep the girl from doing something rash.

 

“Easy Al,” Tobin warns her carefully, pressing a kiss to her furrowed forehead. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute? I’ll go get our plates,” she tells her, and Alex sighs deeply and leans into her for a moment before nodding and heading over to collapse on the stronger box piles near Kelley.

 

Tobin doesn’t even make it out of the van.

 

“Which plates did you lose Alex?” she hears Kelley ask, but puts it out of her mind, focused on the task at hand. “Was it the pretty ones?”

 

She’s pretty sure Alex’s eye is twitching when she speaks, a hand smoothing her hair down wearily.

 

“Yes Kelley,” she snaps out. “Yes, they were the pretty ones. Someone bought them, even when I _specifically told them_ _to hold onto them_!” Her voice is a shout as the moving helper walks into her line of sight, and Tobin would laugh at the way he scurries off if she weren’t so tired.

 

Kelley goes uncharacteristically quiet, stops pilfering through the boxes to look at Alex with big brown eyes.

 

“Uh, they weren’t the white ones, right?” she asks, and Tobin watches as Alex rolls her eyes and tightens her hands.

 

“Yes, they were the white ones,” she says through gritted teeth.

 

“Okay, but not the ones with the pattern, right?”

 

“No, those are the ones,”Alex says tiredly.

 

“Oh,” Kelley says after a moment. “Oh, that’s a shame.”

 

Tobin turns in time to see the gears connect into place in Alex’s head, and just as quickly as she’s moving out of the van she’s hurrying back into it, because suddenly Alex is up and advancing on a nervous looking Kelley.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to _know_ where my plates are, would you Kell?” Her tone is biting, and if Tobin can visibly see how wound up she is then she’s sure Kelley can too.

 

“Uuuhhmmmmm,” Kelley says uncertainly, “I mean, I’m sure it’s not the same ones…”

 

Tobin’s hand closes over Alex’s wrist and pulls her back a little bit, giving Kelley some room, but Alex strains forwards, her temper quickly coming to a head.

 

“Kelley O’Hara, I swear to God if you have my plates I’ll--”

 

“Watch your language, Alex!” Kelley cries, and presses herself backwards as Alex suddenly comes flying forwards.

 

Tobin’s hands grab Alex by the waist as she lunges, carefully pulling her back as Kelley stands and crosses her arms angrily.

 

“How about we all take a deep breath and relax a little,” Tobin says, releasing Alex and stepping between her bestfriend and her girlfriend, “It’s been a long day, I’m sure we all just need--”

 

“I am relaxed!” Kelley yells, but is quickly interrupted by an infuriated Alex who grabs at Tobin’s sleeve and tugs pleadingly.

 

“She has my plates, Toby. She has _our_ plates,” she whines, pouting up at her with full lips and blue eyes, and Tobin just about gives into her when Kelley suddenly pushes forwards.

 

“Oh, don’t you dare ‘ _Toby_ ’ her, Alex Morgan. That’s not fair. Tobin stop looking at her, look at me!” Kelley insists, and immediately grabs onto Tobin’s other sleeve and pulls just as hard.

 

That’s the breaking point for Tobin. Alex and Kelley have suddenly turned into five year olds, and they’re both threatening to stretch out her last good tarheel hoodie.

 

Alex yanks back against Kelley.

 

“No! You already have the plates, you can’t have both. Let go!” she insists, and reaches around Tobin to try and pry the freckled girls hands off.

 

Kelley doesn’t give in very easily.

 

“Well I wouldn’t have had to take the plates if _someone_ had agreed to let me have a slide-bed!”

 

“You’re twenty-nine years old. You don’t get a slide-bed!”

 

“Well then my room is going to suck, Alex, and it’ll be all your fault.”

 

“You don’t get a room! _Let go_!”

 

“You let go!”

 

“She’s my girlfriend.”

 

“She’s my bestfriend.”

 

“ _Tobin!”_

 

Her name ricochets off the van walls, and that’s it. Tobin’s had enough.

 

“Sit down,” she orders, and shoves them both down onto the van floor before reclaiming her sleeves and running her hands over them, making sure they’re okay. “And don’t speak anymore. I want to go home. I don’t care about the plates,” she says to Alex, and then immediately shushes Kelley the second the girl raises her finger and opens her mouth. “ _I don’t care about the slide-bed._ ” she continues firmly, her eyes hard. “My feet hurt. I’m going home.”

 

There’s about a single second of silence.

 

“Why are you so mean to me?” Alex whines once more, and turns to bury her head in Kelley’s shoulder, her arms wrapping around the shorter girl and hugging her tightly to hide away from Tobin.

 

“Thanks a lot Tobin,” Kelley grumbles, glaring up at her without amusement. “Why don’t you just kick me in the face too? Maybe you’ll feel better.”

 

Tobin gives up with a weary sigh and heads out to get the car open and give the mover boy a go-ahead on the van delivery.

 

She catches Kelley pulling Alex to her feet, and Alex keeping herself close to her as they head to the car.

 

“You can have the plates, Al,” she hears Kelley tell her. “I didn’t really want them.”

 

“Thanks Kell,” Alex says, and then hesitates briefly before giving Tobin a pointed look. “Maybe tomorrow we can look at something _reasonable_ for your…” she trails uncertainly.

 

“For my room?” Kelley asks slyly, nudging her hip into Alex’s.

 

Alex sighs.

 

“For your room,” she agrees.

 

Tobin turns away wearily and rolls her eyes before finishing the delivery information and handing it back to the boy, and then heads back to the car and--oh great, she gets to drive the two and a half hour ride back home.

 

Of course Alex and Kelley cuddle up in the backseat and fall asleep within seconds, and when Tobin tries to turn the radio on to keep herself company in their absence, Kelley kicks the back of her seat until she turns it off.

 

She catches the blue of Alex’s eyes staring up at her in her rearview mirror, amusement clear in their depths.

 

Tobin purses her lips to fight back the smile that tries to form and shakes her head slowly at Alex, firmly.

 

“You sure are lucky that you’re cute, you brat,” Tobin tells her, but Alex just smiles cheekily and shifts forwards a little, careful not to jostle Kelley as she reaches and grabs Tobin’s hand, which the midfielder gives up to her begrudgingly after a moment of persistence.

 

“I love you, Tobin,” she tells her sleepily, her cat eyes sparkling at her.

 

“Oh please. You just want your dumb plates,” Tobin mumbles, but flashes her a quick smile, lets her know that all is forgiven.

 

Alex’s hand tightens briefly over hers.

 

“Yeah, I do want those plates. But on a list of things I want, you’re my number one.”

 

She winks at her then and lets her hand go, settles back against Kelley and lets the movements of the car rock her to sleep.

 

Her sweet words keep Tobin company all the way home.

 

\---

 

Tobin’s sleepy helpers hinder the unloading process more than they aid it.

 

Kelley can’t stop rubbing at her eyes, and Alex clings to Tobin as she always does when she’s tired, and the dead weight of the young striker combined with the desk set Tobin is trying to carry makes her rather exhausted as well.

 

Somehow they managed to get everything off the truck, and Tobin’s just tipped the delivery boy and settled down onto one of their new couches, Alex curled up in her lap like the happy cat she is, when the doorbell rings and Kelley rouses from her sleep to get the door, giggling maniacally.

 

“It’s here,” she chirps gleefully.

 

“What’s here?” Tobin huffs, fatigued as she grabs at Alex’s thigh and squeezes, trying to coax the girl off of her and onto the couch.

 

Alex just clings tighter to her neck and mumbles something incomprehensible that sounds a lot like, “Stop Kelley,” and “My Tobin.”

 

“The special delivery,” Kelley says, and suddenly Tobin remembers and shoots up, dumping Alex on the couch--to which she shrieks--and racing to the door.

 

“What are you--Kelley _no_.”

 

A truck as big as the one that has just left now stands parked in their driveway, filled with as much, if not more, stuff as the first.

 

Kelley just giggles and claps happily before launching herself onto the delivery man, hugging him before pointing at Tobin.

 

“She’ll tip you!” she yells and then races off onto the truck, suddenly wide awake.

 

The man stares at her blankly, hand outstretched.

 

“She promised twenty percent.”

 

Tobin’s going to _kill her_.

 

A weary Alex moves to stand by her side as Tobin digs around in her pockets for money, grumbling under her breath, and Alex wraps her arms around her waist and rests her head on her shoulder when she finishes and the man heads back to his truck.

 

Her fingers rub soothing circles into Tobin’s stomach, and her heart beats comfortingly into Tobin’s back.

 

“Just a few more boxes, babe,” Alex tells her, and kisses the spot behind her ear sweetly.

 

Tobin sighs.

 

“Then we sleep?” she asks, her hands moving to slide over Alex’s and press them firmly against her skin.

 

“Like the dead,” Alex teases, nipping at her earlobe before moving to help Kelley.

 

Tobin hears Alex gasp but doesn’t realize why until the girl starts yelling for her.

 

At first Tobin figures Kelley has managed to hurt herself, or has maybe found a portal to Narnia in the back of the delivery van, but then she runs up the ramp and halts next to Alex and--

 

_Everything is there._

 

Every item Alex had ever circled in her endless number of catalogues. Every dinner set and chair combo that they had searched for but had been unable to find. Every “cool” lamp and “chillin” throw rug that Tobin had stumbled upon and fallen in love with.

 

All of it.

 

Alex is so tired and overcome with emotion that she latches onto Tobin and starts crying, and Tobin is too fatigued and surprised to do anything but stare blankly and act as Alex’s teddy-bear--“Tobin-bear” as Alex had once put it, which had made Tobin’s nose wrinkle in disgust--as Kelley bounces around the van and points stuff out to them.

 

“Everyone chipped in a little something,” Kelley says with a big grin. “Cheney and Arod and Abby and Christie and Syd, the whole national team. Oh, and your Thorns buddies too,” she tells them, and then rummages around for a moment before coming back and handing Alex something white and pretty--her plates.

 

“And me, of course,” she grins, and Alex takes the plates with big eyes, sniffling. “Who better to furnish your new home than the people who will be spending the most time in it?” Kelley giggles.

 

It only takes them a half hour to carry everything in with all three of their efforts, but it takes an additional _two whole hours_ for Alex to phone everyone who contributed crying her eyes out and thanking them profusely. Tobin tries to stop her, embarrassed, but Alex just flashes her a fierce glare and makes her repeat her learned line of, “Thank you so much, we love you.”

 

It’s three thirty in the morning when they finally run out of things to do, and once again Tobin has just sat down when Kelley calls her and Alex into their spare room with a persistent cry of, “Just one more thing!”

 

They walk in and there’s a huge white crib glaring them in the face--or what will be one once assembled, as it’s still in the box.

 

Tobin’s about to open her mouth and say her first curse word of the night when Alex beats her to it, but it’s everything except what she expects.

 

“Oh Kelley, it’s perfect!” Alex shrieks and runs over to examine the box. “It’s even scrollwork free. Tobin, it’s scrollwork free!” she cries, and Tobin gives her an unenthusiastic thumbs up that goes unnoticed as Alex turns and launches herself at Kelley.

 

Tobin doesn’t know what the _hell_ scrollwork is, but she definitely does know that cribs are meant for babies.

 

She and Alex don’t have any reason for the crib, have never even discussed having a need for the crib, so unless Kelley’s truly lost it and has decided upon a white scrollwork free infant bed, there’s no reason for the offending item to be in their home.

 

“I figured if I can’t have a room, the next best thing is for little Kelley Jr. to at least have some cool digs here for when she finally comes around,” Kelley says, and Alex laughs and rolls her eyes and Tobin relaxes for a moment, because maybe this is all just some awful joke, but then--

 

“Oh please. When the time comes, I’m going to have a boy,” Alex states calmly, unconcerned, and Tobin’s heart drops into her stomach and a weird noise rises up in her throat, because _what the hell?_

 

“Whatever, you can call him Kellog then,” Kelley says, and Alex just rolls her eyes and laughs and pulls her back in for a hug.

 

“Kells, thank you _so much_ ,” Alex says.

 

Kelley flashes Tobin a shit eating grin over Alex’s shoulder as she hugs her.

 

Tobin glowers back.

 

She knew bringing Kelley to Ikea with them was a bad idea.

 

She just _knew_ it.

 

* * *

_October 20, 2017_

The worst part is that Alex doesn’t even get it. It’s the worst freaking part.

 

Tobin is jogging to catch up to the younger girl, who’s already back in the house. She was left behind in the car, in absolute stupor at Alex’s nonchalance towards their evening.

 

\-----

 

_“Jeff, they’re lesbians,” is the first thing out of her mom’s mouth when she breaks the news. It’s muttered under her breath, as if she thinks Tobin won’t be able to hear it._

 

 _But she does, and Tobin tenses for a moment, wants to explain that they’re not_ lesbians _, but sexual fluidity isn’t something she needs to be teaching her parents at the moment. Instead she waits for her father to put his two cents in._

_She isn’t left waiting long._

_Her dad makes his statement loud and clear. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised,” he starts, pouring himself another glass of wine. He’s had quite a few tonight--most of them when he started piecing together Tobin’s broken confession of her sexuality. “Though, I can say that I’m disappointed.”_

 

_There’s a split second where Tobin’s heart feels as though it’s about to break, but it’s rudely interrupted by the sound of her girlfriend laughing next to her. She turns her head to face Alex so quickly she’d surprised it’s still attached to her neck. Her eyes are big and round in surprise, while Alex’s are squinted in laughter, corners turned up at the sides and blue peeking out from underneath the near-closed eyelids._

 

_The three Heaths sit in shock, trying to understand what Alex finds so funny about the situation._

 

_“Oh, God. I’m sorry,” she starts, still giggling as she tries to compose herself. “I just--.” Alex clears her throat, and the longer it takes for Alex to come up with an explanation, the more antsy Tobin becomes._

 

 _“I just_ knew _this was going to happen.”_

 

\-----

 

“I just don’t understand why it’s that big of a deal, Tobs,” Alex states, taking off her shoes in the entryway and placing them neatly off to the side. “We’ve known how they would’ve reacted for a long time-- _years_ , even. They just, I don’t know. Finally said it.” She continues down the foyer into their living room, not bothering to wait for her girlfriend who’s still a little slow to move.

 

The midfielder has a look of disbelief etched across her face. “It’s a big deal because they’re my _parents_ , Alex,” Tobin argues from the doorway before kicking off her own Nikes and following Alex into their home. “And we didn’t _know_ . They didn’t even know for sure about _us_ until tonight.”

 

“Oh, please,” Alex says with a scoff. “I spent almost every Christmas with your family, and you spent nearly every Thanksgiving with mine. They _knew_.” Alex turns to face Tobin with a look that dares to be challenged. “And we most certainly did, too. We’ve also known that my parents don’t approve, either,” she states matter-of-factly. “So in the end, it doesn’t even matter, really.”

 

And that just _does_ it for Tobin.

 

“What the _fuck_ , Alex?” and she almost, _almost_ wants to take it back when she sees the younger girl recoil, sees the hurt in her wide, blue eyes. But honestly, she’s too mad. “Of course it matters--they’re two of the most important people in my life. How could you say that?”

 

Any hint of Alex’s hurt is gone, because she’s back and ready to fight in true Alex Morgan fashion. Her eyes are still wide, but they’re hard. Cold, like ice.

 

“Because it’s _not_ a big deal, Tobin,” Alex practically sneers.

 

Tobin wants to cut in, wants to argue. But she can’t. She doesn’t know how. Because this--this is a side of Alex she’s only ever seen on the pitch. And she’s sure as hell never been on the receiving end of it.

 

It _scares_ her.

 

“Your parents disapproving of us--guess what, babe?” Alex’s voice is getting louder and louder with every syllable. But Alex stalks towards her slowly, and the only thing Tobin can think to do is shrink a little bit with every step Alex takes, and shift her eyes towards the ground.

 

“Doesn’t _change_ anything.”

 

“It changes _everything_ ,” Tobin manages to get in as Alex gets dangerously close, her voice filled with frustration.

 

It’s enough to stop Alex in her tracks.

 

Tobin still won’t look up at her.

 

The midfielder stays frozen for a few minutes, perched on the arm of their sofa, mulling over her racing thoughts when a soft voice brings her out of them.

 

“What does it change, Tobin?”

 

The voice makes Tobin furrow her brow, because she’s pretty sure it can’t be coming from Alex. It’s not angry or challenging. It’s quiet, like it’s trying to coax something out of her. It’s…

 

“ _Tobin_. What does it _change_?”

 

It’s desperate.

 

“It changes--,” Tobin starts and stops, tries to collect her thoughts, to put them into an order that Alex can understand, but the young striker beats her to it.

 

“I find it hard to believe it can change anything. Because guess what? Our parents could scream from the rooftops how much they hate it, how angry they are with us, how _sinful_ we’re being, and how disappointed they are,” she takes a deep breath to steel herself, to calm her breathing a bit.

 

“But that doesn't change the fact that since the moment I met you, all I've ever thought about is _you._ Your stupid face and your stupid laugh and your eyes when they see something beautiful, something they want to remember. It doesn't change the fact that I spent three years flying around the country, chasing after you wherever you went. It doesn't change the way my heart pounds when I look at you, doesn't change the way you can kiss me and make me warm, that you can hold me when I’m crying, and I’ll stop. It doesn't change that fact that when I wake up in the morning the first thing I reach for is you, that the only face I want to see ever is _yours._

 

“I know that your longboard’s a girl, but her name is Joe. I know you love to surf but you're a little scared of the ocean. I know you like the left side of the bed because I sleep facing the right, and it lets you cuddle up to me. I know you hate horror movies even though you told Kelley you love them. I know that you don't like to have lunch because it means you have to limit the amount you eat for breakfast.

 

“You claim you can go for days without sleeping, but you fall asleep before eight every night. You don't drink coffee, but you love tea. Your favorite smell in the world is vanilla, so I switched my perfume six years ago and never changed it again. You don't like sitting down unless I'm with you. You were terrified of settling down but you still bought me this house. Your favorite fruit is a lemon, but it's so sour you can barely eat one. Your favorite color used to be orange but five years ago I asked you again, and you said that it was blue, not like the ocean. Like _my eyes_ , Tobin.

 

“You're scared that I know all of these things. You're scared that our parents know all of these things, but just because you're scared doesn't mean they didn't happen, doesn't mean I've suddenly forgotten every kiss, every ‘I love you,’every goodbye and hello. It doesn't change the fact that I am _so_ in love with you, Tobin Heath, that I will always be so _in love_ with _you_. Doesn't change the fact that I’m going to marry you, that I’m going to raise my children with you, that I’m going to die holding your hand.

 

“It doesn't change seven years of _us,_ Tobin,” her voice suddenly becomes hesitant, small.

 

“Does it?”

 

When Tobin finally looks up at Alex, she finds her frozen in place. And if it were anyone else, they would automatically assume that nothing about Alex’s stance had changed within the last two and a half minutes while she was giving this speech. But this is Tobin. And Tobin notices everything.

 

Alex’s eyes are no longer ice--they’re dark. And the tears that threaten the spill over the edge remind Tobin of stormy blue clouds.

 

They remind Tobin that Alex hates thunderstorms, but she loves playing games in the rain, because it makes defenders easier to beat. That Alex hates being late to practice, but can’t wake up to the sounds of an alarm for the life of her. They remind her that Alex will, without fail, “forget” to buy a carton of milk at Costco, because she hates going down the cold aisles.

 

They remind her of the days when they first started dating, when Alex poured Tobin a cup of coffee every morning for a year until Tobin _finally_ told her she hated it, then from that day forward, Alex switched her morning drink to tea just so Tobin wouldn’t have to deal with the smell of coffee. They remind her of how Alex used to refuse to wear anything but Sweat Pea perfume, but one day she came into a team meeting smelling like vanilla, and how from that day forward, vanilla wasn’t just Tobin’s favorite scent--it was home.

 

They remind her of the day that blue _became_ Tobin’s favorite color. The day Kelley insisted they teach Alex how to surf, because, “God, Alex. You can’t say that you’re a Cali girl if you don’t know how to surf.” Kelley had then proceeded to leave the two in the ocean to fend for themselves, choosing instead to flirt with the hot lifeguard. Alex had been thrown off her board after a particularly large wave had pulled her under, and Tobin had been the one who had pulled her up from under the sea, had kept her afloat and wiped away the water from her eyes and had stared, starstruck when she had opened them, showing Tobin a shade of blue she’d never seen before.

 

That day sent Tobin on a mission to find words that would do justice to the blue in Alex’s eyes.

 

She has yet to find them.

 

Tobin remembers then, looking into those eyes, that ever since she met Alex all she can do is think about her. Her beautiful face and her beautiful laugh and her _blue_ , _blue_ eyes, and how they sparkle when they see something beautiful, something they want to remember. She remembers how dedicated and selfless Alex was as Tobin flew around the country, keeping her company wherever she went. She remembers the way her heart pounds when she looks at her. The way Alex kisses her and makes her warm. The fact that Alex comforts her when she’s crying, soothing her until the pain is gone, or she’s too tired to cry anymore. She remembers the way Alex’s soft hands grab at her t-shirt in the morning, and the way her eyes twinkle when Tobin’s done kissing her awake.

 

She remembers Alex Morgan, and all the ways Alex Morgan---and being loved by Alex Morgan---has made her feel, _what_ it has made her feel.

 

Happy. Challenged. Passionate. Content. Patient. Shameless. Unwavering. Angry. Frustrated.

 

And in the end, there’s only one way to answer her question.

 

_Does it change anything?_

 

Tobin moves for the first time in what seems like hours--walks towards Alex, who still has her arms folded across her chest, is still leaning back on one foot, impatient, unsure.

 

She moves until she runs out of room, until all that’s left is _her_ , and then gently grabs her face with both hands, brings her lips to Alex to close the remaining gap between them.

 

She thinks Alex is going to fight her at first, the way she balls up her t-shirt into her hands, the way her fingers turn to claws and dig into the back of her shirt, pressing into her shoulder blades, feeling the way the muscles expand and contract around her.

 

Alex just pulls her closer, returns the strength of her kiss, and Tobin fills with warmth when the girl relaxes into her, her body heaving a great sigh of relief as she settles.

 

She’s right, Tobin reasons. The sad glint in her father’s eye, the pointed turn of her mother’s mouth. Yes it hurts her, yes it stings. But _no_ , it changes _nothing_.

 

Alex is still hers, has been hers for seven years now, will be hers for much longer---forever. And Tobin, well, she’s still Alex’s as well, because while she’s used to straying to the ends of the earth, she’s finally found something---someone---that she can’t bear to leave, not even for a moment.

 

Alex is right, as always. The entire world could turn on her, could turn on _them_ , and it still wouldn’t be enough to keep Tobin away. Alex moves and Tobin runs to find her. Tobin wanders and Alex follows, sometimes a few steps behind, but always close at hand.

 

That’s when it all clicks for Tobin, because _Alex is right_ , right in all the ways she shouldn’t be, because Tobin swore a long time ago never to give this much of herself to anyone, but it was never a conscious decision when it came to giving Alex Morgan _everything_ , it just happened. And here Tobin now stands, the face of her lover between her hands, right where she shouldn’t be but always is, and Tobin knows that this is it for her, that _she_ is it for her. The world is unable to offer her anything more alluring, anything as perfect as she is. Nothing better exists, not for Tobin, and even if by some fate there was, by some unimaginable twist of fortune and luck and destiny, she simply wouldn’t want it.

 

She _has_ Alex. Alex _has_ her. Nothing can change that, nothing can come between them.

 

Not anything.

 

She is _so warm_ against her mouth that at first Tobin can’t bear to part from her, and her words leave her mouth in a jumbled, incomprehensible string of jargon.

 

“What?”

 

Alex’s voice, a soft, sighing husk, coaxes her to pull back from her lips, to gather herself together, and she looks into the depth of her eyes, into the blue-starred constellations that dwell there, and lets her smile grow wide, with certainty, because of all the things Tobin Heath is undecided upon, of this she is sure.

  
“Marry me.” 

 

* * *

_December 31, 2018._

 

Everything about that day is startlingly _white_ to Tobin. The ground, the sky, the way her breath looked when it left her mouth and steamed its way into the atmosphere.

 

And Alex. Alex is very, _very_ white that day.

 

Not that it should be surprising, because when Alex first started stringing words together like _outdoor_ and _winter_ and _wedding_ , well, Tobin expected it to be white to some degree.

 

Not like this, though. Never like this.

 

It’s as if everything is simply gone, washed away, everything but the bright blue of Alex’s eyes, which Tobin sees the moment Alex steps out of her carriage, drawn by two white horses of course---because of _Baby Horse_ Alex had told her when she had asked---and if Tobin’s knees weren’t already shaking because of the cold, they’re definitely trembling now.

 

When she was younger her grandmother had told her about angels, had described them in great detail to her. The description had been horrifying, having something to do with insect wings and eight eyes and four arms and a lot of hair, and it had given Tobin nightmares until she had dreamed up her own version of what they must look like.

 

Alex is a perfect fit, her hair intricately curled, her cheeks flushed and lips red like roses, her eyes two soft sapphires that call out to her and drink her in.

 

Tobin gets a little teary eyed at the sight.

 

The trees are bare and strung with millions of little glowing yellow lights, and the aisle is lit with white candles, the closest to a signal flare that Tobin is able to give Alex in guiding her towards herself, because she’s all the way over there and Tobin is an aisle length---twelve candles--- away from her and _hi, you look gorgeous, it’d be nice if you came and stood next to me for a little while_.

 

It starts to snow down on them before they’ve even started to say their vows, before the man marrying them has even concluded his welcoming speech. The white cold flakes stick to Alex’s dress and to Alex’s hair and to Alex’s face, falling beautifully to rest along her cheekbones and at her nose tip and on her eyelashes, and Tobin can barely contain herself, can barely keep herself from pulling her closer and warming her and kissing her, and telling her over and over again that---

 

“I, Tobin Powell Heath, take thee, Alexandra Patricia Morgan, as my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

 

Alex’s lips are cold when Tobin kisses her, when she’s finally able to pull her close, but Tobin’s heart is so warm she almost doesn’t feel it, almost doesn’t hear it when Alex pulls away and curls herself close and whispers over and over again into the shell of her ear _I love you, I love you, I love you so much, Tobin_ _Heath._

 

The tree lights are yellow and her cheeks are flushed red and the world around them is white, _so very white_.

 

Tobin looks into the blue eyes of her wife and knows she’s home, that this _is_ it, her forever, her happy ever after, it’s finally here.

 

Then three months later Alex starts talking about children, about babies in particular,and a year and a half later, crouched on the hospital floor, trying to hold herself together while the world crumbles down around her, Tobin finds out that there’s a big difference between forever and a happy ever after, but a single similarity that is of even greater importance.

 

Neither, even when possessed, are ever guaranteed.

 

* * *

 

Tobin Heath had always loved Alex Morgan.

 

Oddly enough, Alex Morgan had also always loved Tobin Heath.

 

It began slowly, with baby steps, but eventually spiralled beyond both of their control.

 

Their love was like that.

 

It grew quickly, without parameters. One day they were just themselves, the next they woke up and realized that they would be nothing without the other.

 

On July 2, 2020, Tobin Heath discovered she was nothing.

 


	3. chapter 2.

_July 3, 2020._  

 

It’s a very long walk down to the car, not because it should be, but because Tobin can’t for the life of her remember where she parked.

 

Oh, and the baby carrier she’s got in one hand--not two, because her left is clicking the _panic_ button of the car key--is _incredibly_ heavy. Like, it should probably come with a parental warning sticker for _the parents_.

 

Or is it _parent_ , now? Without the need for pluralization. Because Tobin’s not a plural anymore.

 

She’s alone.

 

It doesn’t help that the tiny little alien sitting _in_ the car seat won’t stop screaming.

 

\-----

 

_“She’s not an alien!” Pamela Morgan screams in her face when Tobin suggests it. “That’s my granddaughter!”_

 

_“His name is Mason,” Tobin responds dumbly, because really she can’t think of anything else to say, and that’s the last thing Alex said before she left her._

 

 _Before she left_ them _._

 

_Mason. Tobin smiles widely at the name, widely at the memories._

 

_The look that overtakes Pam’s face is comical, but Tobin weirdly doesn’t feel like laughing._

 

_“Mason?” she asks, appalled. “She’s not a boy you...you idiot! Can’t you understand anything?”_

 

_The only thing Tobin can’t quite understand is whether Pam’s yelling or crying. It seems to be a mix of both._

 

_Oh, and she still doesn’t know where Alex is. She wants to ask again, but the last time she did it only made Pam angrier._

 

_“His name is Mason.”_

 

 _Her parents eventually swoop in and defend her. Her mother is crying, which should make her sad, but when she wraps her up in her arms and holds her tight, strokes her hair softly,_ gently _, Tobin just feels safe, feels like she might be able to prevent her heart from savagely clawing its way out of her chest._

 

_Her father puts himself between them and Pam. He’s got Mason in his arms, and a heavy frown on his face that doesn’t suit him._

 

 _“Maybe we should stop yelling at each other,” he suggests, which Tobin finds funny, because someone should tell the alien--the baby,_ Mason _\--that, because she’s been doing nothing but yelling in everyone’s face since she entered the room._

 

_Pamela’s eyes just about bug out of her head._

 

_“Don’t you tell me to--.”_

 

\-----

 

“Stop yelling,” Tobin sighs, looking down at the little blue bundle, which contains a baby that now has a _very_ red face. “I’m doing my best, you know. Should have fixed the dumb alarm when your mom told me to,” she mumbles, scanning the parking lot for any sign of their silver ford.

 

Mason does not seem very impressed with her apology, because she only cries harder, and attracts the looks of a passing couple and their newborn.

 

Their baby is startling silent, held snuggly in the husbands arms, and Tobin can’t help but feel a subtle yearning.

 

The mother gives her a confused, wide eyed look, and Tobin just simply reacts, shrugs her shoulders and gestures down at Mason wildly.

 

“Don’t look at me. She’s not even mine,” Tobin says, and then at the look of horror that crosses the woman’s face, backtracks immediately. “I mean she is! Sort of, uh...it’s a long story?”

 

The couple speed walk away from her, leave her staring back down into the big crying blue eyes of Mason.

 

Tobin frowns deeply.

 

“Okay, not trying to be mean, but that one was _totally_ your fault,” Tobin tells her, nodding her head importantly. “And did you see _their_ kid? Not a peep out of ‘em. You should take notes, really,” Tobin tells her, smiles softly to herself, but then Mason screams louder and ruins any chance of a happy feeling.

 

Tobin sighs, starts looking for the car again.

 

“You know you don’t have to yell. If you don’t think it’s funny, just say so,” Tobin says.

 

Mason doesn’t get a chance to lower or raise the sound of her cries.

 

“Tobin!”

 

Tobin fiercely hopes that the car has somehow developed an affinity for English in the past two days--that wouldn’t even _begin_ to be the most astounding thing to happen to her--because that would make finding said car much easier.

 

Also, it would probably be a better conversationalist than Mason, who is, apparently, going to be Tobin’s _only_ conversationalist from now on.

 

“Tobin Heath!”

 

Tobin turns and no, it’s not their silver 2018 Ford Luxury Van, it’s her sister Katie marching towards her looking very unimpressed, Jeff and Jeri in tow.

 

Tobin ignores their sullen expressions.

 

“Hey!” she chirps, sets Mason’s exceedingly heavy carrier down on the ground. “You don’t happen to know where I’m parked, do you?” she asks.

 

“Tobin,” Katie repeats, because apparently she can say nothing else. “You can’t just run off like that,” she says, and Tobin frowns, confused.

 

“I didn’t run off,” she says slowly. “It’s time to go home.”

 

Jeri steps forwards, shakes her head.

 

“You didn’t tell anybody. You just about gave my mom a heart attack!”

 

“Sorry,” Tobin says immediately, because Pam has already been so unbelievably unpleasant, she can’t imagine having to deal with her in a state of distress.

 

Well, she can. Sort of.

 

“Why’d you leave, Tobs?” Jeff asks her then, and she shrugs her shoulders, shifts around.

 

“I would have said something, but you guys weren’t there, and Mason was screaming, and Alex has us on a _very_ tight schedule and we have to leave right now if we’re going to follow it,” Tobin says, and for some reason her hands start shaking, and she can’t stop them.

 

“Oh Tobin,” Katie says, and it sounds so _sad_ , and Tobin just doesn’t understand it. “Come back inside, please. Wait for Mom and Dad. We’ll all go home together,” she says, but Tobin shakes her head, because that’s not in the plan.

 

She and Alex are supposed to go home together.

 

“I have to go home right now,” Tobin says, looks down at the howling baby. “We have to go home _right now_.”

 

It’s suddenly a little harder to breathe. Her breath hitches awkwardly at the ends, makes her voice breathy and broken.

 

She doesn’t understand.

 

Tobin watches with soft contempt as pity floods the eyes of the three before her, unhidden and bright in the depths of their gaze, and it makes her recoil, makes her want to disappear.

 

Her eyes suddenly burn, and they feel wet when she touches them curiously. She can’t catch her breath, can’t make her words work.

 

She _doesn’t_ understand.

 

“Okay Tobs,” Jeff says after a moment of silence amongst them, Mason’s screaming excluded, of course. “Let’s get you two home.”

 

He grabs the carrier off the ground, and Katie and Jeri fall in beside her as she follows him obediently.

 

They eventually get to her car, which appears seemingly out of thin air.

 

“How--?”

 

“You parked in the red lot. You were wandering around in the blue,” Katie tells her, a gentle hand on her back as she looks up with confusion. “It’s okay though, Tobin. You had other things to worry about besides where you were parked.”

 

\-----

 

_Tobin’s white knuckles grip tight to the steering wheel. She only chances one look into her rearview mirror to check on Alex._

 

_She doesn’t like what she sees. Her face is too pale, her breathing too labored. She’d been crying until five minutes ago. Now she just sits panting, her eyes closed and brow furrowed._

 

_“Lex?” Tobin asks, the panic rising up inside her chest. She looks away from her, back at the road, because the last thing they need is to go careening into the barrier because she couldn’t keep her eyes on the road._

 

_“Tobin,” Alex whimpers in reply, and it just about breaks Tobin’s heart, has hot tears stinging away at the back of her eyes._

 

_She can’t cry and drive though, so she holds herself together for them both._

 

_“Something’s wrong,” Alex breathes out, exhausted, and Tobin swallows the lump that forms in her throat._

 

_She forces herself to laugh as calmly as she can. She makes more of a choking noise, but she doesn’t think Alex can tell the difference at this point._

 

_“You’re okay Alex. I promise. I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”_

 

\-----

 

Tobin sticks close to Mason as Jeff carries her to the car.

 

He surrenders her promptly when they reach it, opens the door so Tobin can buckle her into the backseat.

 

Tobin fumbles around for a good five minutes, trying to figure out where all the straps attach to, and which buckle goes where, but her fingers shake and she can’t see clearly.

 

She should have read the manual like Alex told her to.

 

Finally Jeff steps in, and with the help of Katie and Jeri, they manage to get the little girl buckled in safely. It’s the only time her crying dies down.

 

After calling their respective parents, they all pile into the car. Tobin goes to sit by Mason, but Katie lets her sit shot gun instead.

 

The ride home is quiet, broken only by loud crying.

 

It doesn’t come from Mason.

 

* * *

_July 8, 2020._

 

The clouds are dark with anger the day they put her in the ground, and the sky weeps the tears Tobin is unable to shed, turning the firm suppleness of the ground into mud.

 

She still really doesn’t understand the magnitude of what has happened. People keep touching her, keep hugging her in a way that is just so _suffocating_. She doesn’t want their touches or words or kisses.

 

All she wants is to turn to her right and see Alex there, smiling back at her with strong lips and blue eyes, her face lifted in barely concealed laughter, because _of course_ Aunt Edna, who wears _nothing_ but black, would decide to show up to Alex’s funeral dressed in bright mustard yellow.

 

That’s the problem, though. Alex can’t be the one to her right, because she’s the one in the casket, beautiful even in her bizarre stillness, her hands folded neatly across her stomach.

 

Her eyes are closed. Tobin considers asking her to open them, but everytime she tries to make her way over to her another relative seems to get in the way.

 

She’s wearing a blue dress, a few shades darker than her actual eyes, but it’s enough to prompt forward the real shade of color from within Tobin’s memories when she manages a peak in her direction every so often.

 

\-----

 

_“What the FUCK!” Tobin’s screaming now because she doesn’t know what else to do. They’ve locked the door on her, drawn the shade, forcibly separated Alex from her presence, but she can still hear her--the doors aren’t thick enough to swallow her cries._

 

_“Tobin!” She’s shrieking, wailing, and it chills Tobin to her core. “Bring her back, bring her back right now. Tobin!”_

 

_Tobin’s going to break down the fucking door._

 

_There’s a fire in her that she’s never felt before, a primal urge that scratches at her stomach and claws its way up her throat, makes her eyes water and her heart pound and her jaw lock down hard, biting her tongue accidentally, but the pain doesn’t register._

 

_She’s having an adrenaline rush. She’s had them before, but only ever on the soccer pitch, in the most critical moments of the game._

 

_Only this isn’t a game. This is real life, and her hands can’t stop shaking, her body can’t stop quivering._

 

_And it’s not just because Alex is in there, but her baby is too, small and alone and--._

 

_“TOBIN! I want Tobin!”_

 

_Tobin backs up five steps, until her heels almost brush the other wall, and runs at the door, throws her shoulder into it with all she has._

 

_The doors are a lot harder than they look. It gives a great groan as she crashes into it, and the wood splinters where her shoulder makes contact, but it doesn’t give away._

 

_Hands come and restrain her then, arms that are stronger than her. They yank her up and pull her away from where she most desires to be._

 

_“Let go!” she screams, and kicks out hard, thrashes as someone yelps and more hands come to restrain her. “She needs me, She needs me!”_

 

_“It’s standard hospital procedure, Ms. Heath,” a voice speaks calmly over her screaming and Alex’s cries as they tow her away. “Family cannot be present during invasive procedures,” it continues as Tobin thrashes harder, kicks with a greater fever. “If you cannot calm down we will be forced to restrain you. Please return to your family and await results.”_

 

_They throw her back into Alex’s previous hospital room and shut the door on her again. Alex’s parents and her own parents stare at her panicked, tear-ridden face and rush to her, demand answers._

 

_All she can do is cry._

 

\-----

 

She doesn’t know where Mason is. She’s been looking around for her for a while now, but she can’t find her, and it’s the first time the giant hole punched into her chest actually feels something. It starts as a slow burn, but the longer Mason stays missing, the more it intensifies, until it’s all she can focus on.

 

She goes to relative after relative, keeping herself calm until the fifth person still hasn’t seen her baby.

 

“Do you know who has Mason?”

 

 _“_ Oh _Tobin,”_ they start everytime, reach out and touch her in ways she doesn't want. “Oh darling, it’s just so awful, isn’t it? She was so young, so beautiful.”

 

“Hey, do you know where Mason is?”

 

“I just can’t believe it, you guys have only just been married for what, a year and a half? You poor thing.”

 

“Hello, have you seen Mason around?”

 

“Tobin, sweetheart! Oh you shouldn’t worry about her, I’m sure someone’s got her. This is your time with Alex. Speaking of which, I know Alex wanted the name Mason, but she’s a girl, Tobin. I read an article online and there’s still time to change--.”

 

“You haven’t seen Mason, have you?”

 

“You’re so strong Tobin. Everything’s going to be okay, time heals all wounds, you’ll see. And when you’re ready you’ll have no trouble finding someone else, you’re so pretty. By the way, who’s going to be taking care of Mason? _So tragic_ that she’s been orphaned, do you---”

 

She ends up next to Alex. It’s sort of by accident, and she bumps the casket slightly, making it shutter, causing some of Alex’s intricately curled hair to fall into her face, and it’s just second nature to reach down and fix it.

 

Her skin is icy as she pushes the dark brown locks back into place, and she makes the mental note to ask someone to turn up the heat, because she’s pretty sure she isn’t suppose to be _that_ cold. She’ll get sick or something, just lying around like that, in nothing but her short dress.

 

“Hey Lex.” It’s the first time all day she feels like she’s talking to someone competent, and it’s bizarre how quickly it relaxes her. She moves her fingers from Alex’s face to her folded hands, placing hers over them carefully, but they’re just as cold as her forehead.

 

“You’re freezing. I’ll ask for a blanket or something though, no worries,” she says, and clears her throat because it’s starting to hurt. “By the way, you haven’t seen that crazy kid of ours anywhere, right? I swear she’s probably convinced Kelley to do something stupid by now--that is, if she takes after you--and I’m a little worried. About Kells, I mean. Mason can take care of herself, she’s a toughy.”

 

Tobin isn’t aware that she’s rambling. All that she knows is she feels okay for the first time in a while. She squeezes Alex’s hands tighter, and swears they feel a little warmer.

 

“Okay, you just hang out here for a little while. I’ll be back with Mase in a sec, no worries.”

 

Tobin’s heart starts to beat its way out her chest. The edges of her vision sharpen while the center of it blurs and she doesn’t know where she’s going, she’s just walking forward numbly.

 

People keep touching her, keep smiling at her face and whispering at her back.

 

“Poor girl,” they say, over and over. “What a poor, _poor_ girl.”

 

She doesn’t know who they’re talking about anymore.

 

\-----

 

_She sees her dad’s face first as she sinks to the floor of the hospital room and tries to slow her breathing. Her shoulder aches painfully, and her hands tremble beyond her control._

 

_His face is ashen, white with fear as he looks down at her, watches her come undone._

 

_She’s never seen her dad so scared. He’s always been a strong force by her side, the one who picks her up when she falls down, helps bandage her back up before telling her to try again._

 

_“It’s not going to be easy,” he had told her the night before her wedding, when she had called him in a panic. “It’s going to be very hard. But hell, you two have won World Cups, Olympics, championships. I’d say that sends a pretty strong message. You’re better together.”_

 

_His words had calmed her down then, settled her nerves and doubts._

 

_“You love her very much, don’t you?” he had asked her, and she had nodded her head, closed her eyes._

 

_His voice had been strong and secure and safe._

 

_“We love you just as much, Tobin. More than you know, and always will, no matter what. I’m sorry it took so long for us to tell you.”_

 

_She expects the same kind of comfort from him now, but he can’t form words, just sits down beside her on the cold floor and takes her hand in his._

 

_“She’s in God’s hands now, Tobin,” he tells her as she shakes and sobs and falls apart on the hospital floor. “There’s nothing more to be done.”_

 

_She stares at him, eyes huge and wet and red, and wonders if she really looks as pathetic as the image his eyes shine back at her._

 

_“Dad,” she manages to choke out. Her voice sounds too sharp, and far too unsteady. “Dad, I don’t want her to be alone. She’s so scared. I’m so scared.”_

 

_His hand tightens over hers and he pulls her closer, wraps an arm over her heaving shoulders and tries to ground her._

 

_“Does she know you love her?” he asks, straightforward._

 

_She can only manage a nod, her eyes pressed tightly shut._

 

_“Do you know that she loves you?”_

 

_Tobin nods, whimpers this time, and goes back to trying to catch her breath as her body begins to hyperventilate._

 

_“That’s good Tobin. Let’s hold onto that for a while, okay?”_

 

_She nods. Nodding is good._

 

_An hour later a doctor in a white coat walks into the room with pink stains on his sneakers. He talks to Pamela and Michael first, because they rush to his side the instant the door clicks open._

 

_A nurse is with him. She’s got a blue blanketed bundle in her arms, a screaming, angry one that makes it hard for Tobin to hear._

 

_When Pamela falls to the ground to join her, though, she understands perfectly._

 

_If Alex really is in God’s hands, then he’s taken her._

 

_She won’t be coming back._

 

\-----

 

She swears she can hear her crying, but she doesn’t know where from. Her search patterns start to become more frantic, unorganized as she starts circling back to the same people, demanding they tell her where Mason is.

 

It all stops when she runs into Lauren. The curly haired woman takes one look at her and frowns deeply, reaches out and places her hands on her shoulder to steady her.

 

“Tobin?” Her voice is a soft, sad lull. “Are you okay?”

 

“I can’t--.” There’s tears building up behind her eyes, burning hot like fire, and she blinks angrily as they escape down her cheeks. Her breath catches and her chest seizes and she can’t keep her voice from trembling.

 

“I can’t find her,” she chokes out, squeezes her eyes shut tightly and takes a shuddering breath. “Cheney, I _don’t know where she’s gone_.”

 

Lauren strokes her fingers under her eyes, collecting the tears there, and then repeats the movement with her hair and holds tightly to her back, pulling her closer.

 

It’s the first touch of the entire day that actually comforts Tobin, and she allows herself to relax somewhat into the embrace.

 

Lauren smells like she always does, like she always has, from the first moment they met all the way to now. She’s the same cinnamon and vanilla bean and mint leaves that she was when Alex was still baby horse, when the worst thing that had ever happened to them was that they had lost the World Cup.

 

Tobin would take losing it a million times over compared to this.

 

“Who?” Lauren asks her, running a gentle hand up her back. Lauren’s always been the person who has treated Tobin with the most care. She’s always understood the softer nature that lives within her, the certain sensitivities that she has, sometimes even more than Alex. It’s all Tobin wants then, all she needs. “Mason? She’s with Amy, I just left them. We can go get her right now.”

 

Tobin tries to hold in another shuddering sob, but it doesn’t work and it still comes out as broken as ever.

 

She doesn’t exactly know when she stopped looking for Mason and started looking for Alex. The two have been interchanging themselves constantly within her head all day.

 

Lauren knows where Mason is.

 

No one knows where Alex has gone.

 

“I can’t find her Cheney,” she tells the blue eyed girl, repeats the phrase over and over. “I’m trying but I don’t know where she could have gone.”

 

Lauren catches on eventually, goes completely still and then suddenly crushes her into her, holds her tight.

 

“ _Oh Tobin_ ,” she says, and there it is again, the pity and the sympathy. She doesn’t want anyone’s sadness or regards or concern. She wants them to tell her where the _hell_ Alex is. Give her a timeframe for when she’s coming back, like she’s not dead, she’s just stuck in traffic or has missed her flight or was late to her train.

 

“She’s still here, Tobin. I promise. Just...in different ways,” Lauren tells her. “She’s in here now,” she says and then taps Tobin’s forehead once, softly. “And she’s in your little girl. And she’ll stay there forever, Tobin. As long as you want, and as _long_ as you need.”

 

Tobin’s quiet for a moment. Her tears have subsided, she has control over herself again.

 

“I want her to be _here_ ,” she says, looking at Lauren like she’s the one keeping her away.

 

Lauren just shakes her head, squeezes her tight.

 

“Me too. Let’s go get Mason.”

\---

 

She thinks she might be able to be okay until they shut the lid on her.

 

It happens suddenly, like everything else has, taking her by surprise.

 

They call everyone in for a final goodbye. Her immediate family stands by her head, Michael with his arm around Pam, her two sisters somber behind them.

 

Pam holds onto Mason but she won’t stop squirming. She’s not very happy to be around so many people, and she doesn’t like the touches they so eagerly doll out to her. She fusses relentlessly, but thankfully doesn’t cry.

 

She’s worn herself out after a hard three days of non-stop screaming, only quieting down the one time Tobin dared to hold her, which Tobin has rationalized to be because the sweatshirt she had been wearing was Alex’s, and her smell had been enough to comfort Mason for a little while.

 

She keeps grabbing with her tiny little hands at the white onesie she’s dressed in, not liking the coarse fabric. It’s a few sizes too big for her. All the clothes she and Alex had bought for her had been meant for a boy, and Pamela had absolutely melted down at the thought of her wearing it.

 

\-----

 

_Tobin’s not very good with the buttons. The limbs were troublesome enough---Mason seems to enjoy making every simple task about ten times harder than it should be---but it’s the pesky buttons that Tobin’s unable to do up. She keeps snagging them on Mason’s diaper, keeps trying to click together the wrong pairs._

 

_Eventually, though, she gets it, and Mason’s all ready, dressed in a nice blue onesie with a cute teddy bear on it, big block letters spelling out MOMMA’S BOY across the top. It’s Tobin’s favorite out of all the clothes she and Alex had gotten, not because of the actual onesie, but because instead of coming with a matching hat, there’s a hood sewn into the back, turning it into an adorable little hoodie._

 

_Plus it’s Tarheel colors, so even better._

 

 _Tobin’s about to laugh, because she can just picture the absolute astonishment on Alex’s face at the thought of_ her baby _dressed in_ Tarheel _colors, and Mason’s looking up at her pretty content with her gorgeous blue eyes, when Pam comes in and just loses it._

 

_“What is she wearing? Tobin, that’s boy clothes. She can’t wear boys clothes. How will anyone know she’s a girl?”_

 

 _Tobin backs up pretty quickly---without needing to be told---as Pam swoops in and grabs Mason from her, starts undoing the buttons she has_ literally _spent five minutes doing up._

 

_“I figured maybe they’d probably ask and then maybe I’d tell them--.”_

 

_Pam whirls on her pretty quickly, and it’s the blue of her eyes that shut Tobin up. They’re not the same as Alex’s or Mason’s, but they’re pretty damn close._

 

 _“Are you trying to be funny?” she snaps, and Tobin feels her heart crash into her stomach. “Because this is serious. It’s bad enough you named her_ Mason _of all names, now you’re dressing her like a little frat boy. You’re going to confuse her before she’s even competent enough to be confused, and you’re going to confuse everyone else around her. Now go get me something that isn’t blue or green.”_

 

 _Tobin stares blankly at her, starts to feel her eyes burn a little and her throat constrict. She’s always been pretty good about people disliking her, but it’s different when it’s coming from Alex’s_ mother _of all people, and it’s especially raw when she’s being blamed for things beyond her control._

 

_“Alex said she was having a boy, so we only have things in her size that are blue and green,” Tobin says hesitantly, and her heart breaks a little as Mason starts to cry again, fed up with being on the changing table for so long. “And I didn’t name her, Alex did. That’s the name she wanted, so…”_

 

_Pam’s shaking her head before she’s even finished, tsking her tongue and moving away from her, Mason in her arms._

 

_“She’s not wearing blue. She’s just not.”_

 

Mason’s dressed in a onesie for a three month old, not a newborn. She’d tolerated it for about three minutes, and since then had been trying to take it off.

 

Needless to say, it’s been a rather long day for the Morgan family in terms of the little girl.

 

Tobin doesn’t necessarily want to hold her or have her near her, but she’s getting rather tired of watching her struggle to the best of her three day old ability to rid herself of the heavy cloth.

 

She was happy in her blue hoodie.

 

The Morgans have left a space for Tobin at the head of the casket, closest to Alex’s side, but she doesn’t move to take it. Instead she stands off to the side, running nervous fingers through the loose strands of her black dress.

 

She wouldn’t know what to do with that many people staring at her, all with sadness in their eyes, wouldn’t be able to shake their hands and accept their hugs, not when the simple task of breathing is so difficult on its own.

 

She hopes Alex will forgive her.

 

The lid stays open until the procession of people telling her goodbye thins out to nothing. Some people tuck pictures into the lining of her casket, which Tobin doesn’t understand. Alex won’t open her eyes up for her, so why would she open them for pictures? Besides, it’s dark down under the earth and--.

 

\-----

 

_It’s dark and silent in the house as it thunders, bright cracks of lightning splitting the sky apart. It’s around two in the morning and Tobin’s fallen asleep on the couch accidentally after staying up to watch an Arsenal game, Alex having long gone to bed after the baby had been kicking her relentlessly._

 

_It’s fun for Tobin, because the little kicks of the baby’s feet are thrilling to feel, but the kid must be quite a scrapper because it drains all the life out of Alex with its antics._

 

_It’s not the thunder that wakes Tobin up. It’s the pitter of feet on the hardwood, the soft shifting of the couch as gentle fingers pull away the blanket that Tobin has nested herself into, the familiar warmth as a body presses against her own---the full roundness of Alex’s heavily pregnant stomach pushing into hers._

 

_Alex makes soft, gentle noises of utmost effort and concentration as she tries to settle in beside her, but her belly gets in the way, and Tobin can’t help the laughter that bubbles to her lips as she sits up sleepily, pulls the striker into her lap and lets her cuddle right up to her._

 

_“You know,” she says into Tobin’s neck, her lips pressing softly into her skin. “My life was a lot easier when I didn’t have a soccer ball inside me,” Alex says, and then squeaks as the thunder crashes down around them, hides her face in the crevice of Tobin’s neck._

 

_Tobin chuckles softly, wraps her arms around Alex to steady her and then places a gentle kiss behind her ear, strokes a calming hand up her back._

 

_The kid’s still kicking---she can feel it in her own stomach through Alex’s, the soft thuds setting off butterflies in Tobin that start in her stomach but rise up into her throat._

 

_Once the thunder passes Alex pulls carefully away, shifts into a slightly more comfortable position._

 

_“I didn’t realize you were still scared of the dark,” she says, rubbing at Alex’s shoulders, which are still rather tense. Then again, everything about the striker is tense these days._

 

_Alex turns in her arms a little, wriggling her body up to hers so she can relax, kissing Tobin’s pulse points carefully along her neck, warmly._

 

_“Me either,” she admits lowly, honestly. “Until I woke up and you weren’t next to me.”_

 

_Tobin hums thoughtfully, pulls back and presses a solid kiss to Alex’s lips and then reaches down and grabs her by the underside of her thighs, picking her up swiftly, suddenly grateful for all the lifting sessions her soccer career has required her to do._

 

_“Well, I guess I’ll just have to hang around for a while then,” Tobin tells her as she carries her down the hall, Alex clinging to her like a koala, her legs and arms wrapped firmly around her._

 

_“Forever?” Alex questions her, a little cheeky as Tobin sets her down onto the bed, and Tobin sighs and rolls her eyes and taps her on the nose._

 

_“Sure thing, Lex,” she tells her before hopping over her to the other side of the bed, where she rushes to pull up the covers and slides under them, into the warmth below. “As long as you want.”_

 

_Alex gives her a quizzical look, her blue eyes piercing._

 

_“Forever is a long time Tobin,” she tells her gravely, with a fixed stare. “Like, a really long time. And you’ll have to stay with me through all of it.”_

 

_Tobin sighs and tickles her hands up Alex’s side until she complains, smacking her hands away in annoyance, and then laughs at the sour look Alex gives her._

 

_“Geez Lex. Do I need to go grab my wedding vows again?” she teases, and Alex huffs and rolls over to shove at her shoulder._

 

_The movement puts her big pleading blue eyes that much closer to Tobin, and as always when in their presence, Tobin gives into them._

 

_She smiles widely, runs an affectionate hand over Alex’s cheek, stroking it gently._

 

 _“You worry too much, Al. You’re going to give yourself wrinkles,” she says, poking her furrowed forehead, and then she runs a finger over the girl’s lips before she can snap at Tobin for suggesting such a thing. “I’m not kidding though. Nothing can keep you apart from me, nothing at all, not now, not ever,” she tells her, and watches with great satisfaction as the blue of her eyes_ melts _._

 

_“You’re it for me. You’re my forever,” Tobin hums, laughing teasingly, and Alex rolls her eyes and moves away from her with a soft groan._

 

_“You are such a dork sometimes, Tobin,” she tells her, huffing, but Tobin just snickers and follows her across the bed, wraps an arm around her and snuggles up to her, pressing her back into her chest, up against the beating of her heart, where she belongs._

 

_“You married this dork, so…” Tobin trails, and presses her face into Alex’s neck to avoid the smack she sends her way, laughing as she does._

 

_“Oh gosh, don’t remind me,” Alex groans._

 

_She folds Tobin’s hands over her stomach though, holds them tightly as she drifts off._

 

_Little feet keep Tobin company, kicking away at the palm of her hand until she too, eventually, succumbs._

 

\-----

 

They’re going to close the lid when Tobin rushes forwards, runs up to her side because _it’s going to be dark in there_ and Tobin’s not going to be able to go with her and--.

 

She doesn’t know what she plans to do. She gets there and just stares down at her face, at her white, expressionless, beautiful face and wonders how she can keep her safe now.

 

Katie comes up carefully behind her, presses a hand between her shoulder blades.

 

“Tobin? What are you doing?”

 

Tobin doesn’t know.

 

She looks down and sees all the pictures people have put in. Everyone that has ever been in Alex’s live seems to be there. Her parents, her sisters, all her friends, there must be hundreds of pictures tucked inside the casket.

 

In the lining by her head is her and Tobin on their wedding day. Next to it, a picture of Mason a few hours after she was born, wrapped up in a blanket, her blue eyes startlingly bright.

 

Tobin doesn’t intend to start crying down into the casket, but it’s what happens.

 

“Tobin?” Katie’s voice is soft. She turns into her sister, uncertain, unsure.

 

“She’s scared of the dark,” she says, breathless in her statement, exhausted.

 

Katie stares at her for a short moment, long enough for Tobin to watch tears build up in the brown depths of her eyes.

 

Then she turns away, grabs one of the candles on the tables and blows it out, walks back up and places it in the corner of Alex’s casket.

 

“Is that good? Do you think that will work?” she asks her.

 

Tobin nods, thanks her, takes one last look at her striker. At her wife.

 

They close the lid on her face.

 

Close the lid on her life.

 

Mason starts to cry.

\----

 

It’s cold out. The wind drives its chill deep into Tobin’s bones, and despite the shelter of the black umbrellas the funeral home had provided, the rain still bites at the skin she hasn’t covered, stinging the backs of her hands and the tip of her nose, turning her cheeks dark red, matching the color to the rim of her eyes.

 

She hasn’t felt so cold in a long, long while.

 

It’s no weather for a newborn baby. Mason has a coat on her and a hat pulled down over her ears, but it's not enough and she makes her discomfort known, her face remaining screwed up and her eyes tightly shut, her mouth open in a wail. The colder it gets, the more her cries increase, growing in volume until it’s all Tobin can focus on.

 

About forty other people stand around Alex’s grave, silent and waiting in their dark suits and dresses, immobile even as the wind howls down on them and the rain ruins their clothing. While the wake had been open to everyone, the funeral is a more intimate affair, with only those closest to Alex being permitted to attend.

 

It makes it a little difficult for Tobin to look out at their faces. To the right are Alex’s college buddies, to the left her high school soccer teammates. Her high school and college coach wander in front, her swarm of relatives ahead of them. Their national team members are scattered, with the exception of Kelley who stands off to the side, waiting for Tobin. Nearly all of the Portland Thorns are there, and then there’s all of Tobin’s immediate family, and very closest to the grave site is her mother and father, her two sisters.

 

Alex had loved so many people, and so many people had loved her.

 

Tobin can’t focus on that, though. Her attention is immediately claimed by Alex’s squirming, agitated daughter, screaming in Pam’s arms in a way that Tobin hasn’t heard since the very first day, since the day Alex left her, left _them_.

 

Something hot boils up within Tobin at the sound, something angry.

 

\-----

 

_Tobin casts a doubtful look out at the funeral grounds from her place within the limousine. In front of them, already parked, the two funeral workers spring out and start the process of unloading Alex. The weather is a nice distraction from the dark wood of the casket._

 

_Michael opens the door of the limo and Tobin immediately recoils at the iciness that floods into the warm car and presses Mason closer into her, attempting to protect her from the elements. The tiny girl had finally managed to settle down away from the noise of the funeral home, and once Tobin had blasted the heat and held her as tightly and as close as she had dared, she had calmed her fussing almost immediately, and had at long last drifted into a content sleep, wrapped safely in her jacket and Tobin’s arms._

 

_The outside is a not a place Tobin wants to take her. Alex’s family files past her and steps out, each member opening up an umbrella until only Tobin and Mason remain. Pam shoots her an impatient look from the outside._

 

_“Are you coming?” Her voice is stiff, as cold as the icy rain and relentless wind._

 

_Tobin shakes her head._

 

_“I don’t think it’ll be good for Mason. It’s fine, we can wait here, I can still see a little, and she can finally get some sleep,” she tells her._

 

_It’s the wrong answer to give. Pam’s eyes narrow._

 

_“You know what, Tobin Heath?” There’s a bite to her words that has Tobin shocked into a silent submission. “You do what you want. But we’re going to see our daughter buried, and her daughter’s coming too,”she orders, and before Tobin really knows what’s happening Mason’s out of her arms and wide awake and fussing again as the Morgan family heads towards the grave site, and it’s all Tobin can do to scramble out of the limo after them before the door slams shut on her._

 

\-----

 

Mason’s screaming, combined with the wind, makes it rather hard to hear the priest.

 

“For the Lord giveth and he taketh away,” he speaks, but all Tobin can hear is Mason’s cries. Her eyes aren’t on the casket, piled high with roses, both red and white, and her mind isn’t even really anywhere near close to thinking about Alex because _Mason shouldn’t be here_.

 

She should be in the car, with Tobin, where it’s warm and safe and the radio is on so it isn’t so damn quiet.

 

Lauren and Amy stand beside her, stoic and solid in their presence. Amy keeps flashing worried looks her way, and Lauren rests a hand on the small of her back, a gentle, warm one. Their eyes are watching the priest, watching Alex.

 

It’s Kelley, standing off to her right, that catches Tobin’s attention.

 

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid,” the priest continues, his head bowed in prayer over Alex.

 

Everyone’s eyes are watching Alex. Even Pamela’s, who stands with a tight grip on her screaming daughter.

 

Not Kelley’s, though. Kelley is looking at Mason, huge tears in her hazel eyes, hands shaking--but not from the cold.

 

It’s enough to solidify Tobin’s decision.

 

“Do not be dismayed. I will strengthen you and help you; I will hold you up with my righteous hand,” the priest continues, and Tobin can’t keep track of the way he reads his chosen passages, just lets the words run over her like the rain water, cold and bitter.

 

She walks up to Pamela wordlessly, well aware of the shifting attention from Alex to her, and reaches out her hands for her crying daughter. There’s a spark in Pamela’s eye, a moment of hesitation, but it only makes the fire in Tobin’s stomach hotter, only makes her resolve that much firmer.

 

She’ll be making the decisions from now on.

 

“Give her to me,” she instructs softly, her eyes hard, unwilling to be tested.

 

A moment later Mason’s in her arms. She doesn’t stop crying, but her eyes do open slightly, curiously, to stare up at her. The strong bright blue hits Tobin hard, and before she can stop herself, her head snaps up to the casket, to give Alex a parting glance.

 

But Alex isn’t there. Just a bunker of flowers, a box of wood, and a wet, grey tombstone.

 

 _In loving memory_ , it reads, _of Alexandra Morgan Heath._

 

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed of spirit,” the priest says.

 

_Beloved daughter, sister, friend, mother, wife._

 

Mason’s cries grow louder.

 

Tobin turns without another word, without another thought, and walks away, back to the car, back to the warmth and the light and the hum of the radio.

 

The priest's words follow her all the way back.

 

“Though I may walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For _you_ are with _me_.”

 

Tobin slams the door shut, turns the heat back on, cranks up the radio as high as Mason will tolerate and stares down into the girl’s face, into the girl’s eyes.

 

She stops crying pretty quickly, the heat lulling her to sleep, the radio soothing away her cries, Tobin’s heartbeat pressed reassuringly against her cheek.

 

 _The Lord giveth and he taketh away_ , the priest’s words taunt her.

 

Mason stops crying, but Tobin starts. Big, ugly sobs, the first she’s uttered since Mason was placed into her arms, flood down her cheeks.

 

Mason’s eyes open and stare up at her. All Tobin sees is Alex.

 

“We’re going to be okay, you and me,” Tobin sobs, her words catching in her throat and twisting sharply, painfully.

 

“I’m going to make things okay. I promise.”

 

_The Lord giveth and he taketh away._

 

As Tobin cries, she tries to understand, but in the end, fails miserably.

 

Because yes, he’s taken, he’s taken everything that she’s ever needed to keep.

 

Tobin doesn’t find out exactly what he’s given in return for a long time.

 

* * *

  _July 9, 2020._

 

Portland is absolutely beautiful in July.

The birds are always out, chirping in the trees they’ve come back to after a long winter away. The sun burns brightly in the sky, and the trees that lost their leaves grow thick again, casting perfect shadows over yards and playgrounds. The sky is so clear that if Tobin stares long enough, she can convince herself that there are no horizons.

It’s cruel how beautiful it is.

It’s cruel how Alex insisted on painting the nursery walls the color of the skies, then left Tobin to stare at them alone.

So now Tobin’s holding Mason, alone in her big house with just the new baby, staring at the walls of the nursery--the nursery that holds the scrollwork-free crib Alex had annoyingly crooned about setting up what seems like a century ago. Now the crib is set up, and Alex isn’t there to obsess over it.

Tobin would do anything to hear Alex point out the stupid scrollwork-free crib one last time.

She settles down in the rocking chair, cradling the sleeping baby against her chest. This is the longest period of time Mason has been able to sleep during the three days she’s been born, and it’s really only been about an hour since the two of them had come home.

Pam and Michael hadn’t come back to the house after the funeral, and if Tobin is being completely honest--she’s okay with it. She’s _tired_ of the looks they throw her way when they think she can’t see them. She’s _tired_ of the constant disapproval of the way she holds or comforts Mason. She’s _tired_ of how after about only two minutes of trying to take care of Mason on her own, Pam swoops in and snatches Mason away. It makes her feel… useless.

Almost as useless as the night Alex died.

As useless as the night she had to wait as Alex bled to death in the room across from hers.

It’s the last thought she has before she falls asleep.

\-----

The sounds of pots and pans clanging wakes Tobin up from the first real night’s rest she’s had in forever. She’s about to call out to Alex, complain that she woke her up until she remembers.

She remembers, then springs up, because if Alex is dead...

If Alex isn’t here, then _who the fuck_ is in her house, and where in God’s name is Mason if not in her arms?

Tobin flings herself off across the room to check the crib, panicking when she finds it empty.

Without thinking, she runs downstairs, and freezes in place when she sees the face of the intruder standing in her kitchen, holding the pretty, white plates Alex had picked out all those years ago.

“Jeri.” Tobin doesn’t even register the words before they’re out of her mouth. “What are you doing here? Where’s Mason?”

It comes out harsher than she intended, but Jeri doesn’t seem to mind. And if she does, she’s pretending it doesn’t faze her. She continues working, not even bothering to look up towards Tobin.

“Mason’s taking a nap in her playpen, don’t worry. And I’m just finishing up some stuff, Tobin. I’ll be out of here in no time, okay?”

“I thought… I thought you were a robber, or something. I thought they took her away.”

Jeri stops and turns to look at Tobin, resting her hands on the surface in front of her. “And if I _were_ a robber, Tobin? What were you planning on doing?” She looks pointedly at Tobin’s empty hands. “Striking a soccer ball in their face to scare them away?”

Tobin follows Jeri’s gaze down, noticing she hadn’t grabbed anything to defend herself or Mason. It doesn’t help build confidence in her ability to raise Mason by herself.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t expect anyone.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry about the noise. I meant to just slip in to see Mason before slipping out, but I noticed the mess in the kitchen and thought you could use a hand.” Jeri turns her focus back to the plates. “You really shouldn’t fall asleep with Mason like that in the rocking chair, though. It could be dangerous, you know.”

Tobin ignores her, instead favoring to ask a question. “What are you doing with our plates, Jeri?”

Jeri pauses for just a moment before continuing, going on like she didn’t even hear her.

So Tobin asks again. “Jeri. What. Are you doing. With my plates?”

There’s a firm resolve in Tobin’s voice, similar to the one that came from her throat when she took Mason away from Pam at the funeral. She walks slowly over to her sister-in-law, demanding an answer, and stopping only when she finds herself an arm’s length away.

“I’m packing them.” Jeri’s voice carries a nonchalance. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She maneuvers easily around the younger girl, gently placing the plates on the counter.

“Why?”

“You don’t need these on _display_ , Tobin. They’re just going to bring you grief, okay?”

“And how would you know what I need? Since when have you cared about what brings me _grief_ , Jeri? Since when have you cared about me at all?!”

Jeri whirls to face Tobin, a familiar fire in her blue eyes.

“Since I fucking lost my baby sister!”

There’s a cry that comes from the baby monitor, and Tobin almost ignores it to scream back when the eyes in front of her soften immediately, then disappear as Jeri runs to the other room to check the source.

It’s all too familiar for Tobin’s liking--the icy flames in the blue eyes that soften in a heartbeat, the standoffish, nonchalant trait each member of the Morgan family possesses when they’re caught doing something they know they shouldn’t be--and she’s reeling when she hears Jeri’s soft, staticy coo from the baby monitor.

_“Shh, it’s okay, Mason. I’m here. I’ve got you. There you go. I’m sorry. Mommy and I didn’t mean to wake you up.”_

It snaps Tobin back into reality.

“I’ll put the plates back, okay, Tobin?” Jeri calls out tiredly, rocking the newborn back and forth. “Just consider putting them away eventually.”

Tobin only manages to respond with a broken, “Okay,” because it kills her to see Jeri and Mason get along so naturally.

It should be her, dropping everything to rush to Mason’s side. And she knows it, but she can’t exactly ignore how quickly Mason quiets down when Jeri picks her up. How willing Mason seems to snuggle into the arms of the closest thing to Alex she has left.

It makes Tobin wonder if the Heath at the end of Mason’s name even belongs.

 

* * *

_July 23, 2020._

  
It’s raining in Portland the day Tobin’s life once again changes. The sky is not an angry kind of black, but is instead a softer, sadder grey. It fades the bright browns of the tree trunks into a vivid darkness, turns the green of the leaves into a lackluster collection of indistinguishable color. The world looks a little more fearful than it used to be, a bit more quiet, reserved.

 

The house protects them.

 

Tobin is curled up on the second floor by the high rise windows, seated on the soft grey loveseat— _couch_ , Alex had always insisted with daring blue eyes—with Mason curled up snugly onto the navy backdrop of Alex’s old Cal-Bear sweatshirt.

 

It’s only been a month since Mason entered into Tobin’s life, and only two weeks since the little girl finally stopped crying so much, which is a huge relief, because Tobin’s been wearing so much of Alex’s clothing—and for such long periods of time—that her smell is starting to fade from them.

 

Mason has gotten used to her, unwillingly of course. Tobin knows her first choice is still Alex, but after she gave up on her return, her tolerance towards Tobin slowly increased. There’s a trust between them now to such an extent that Mason sleeps rather peacefully—and willingly—on Tobin’s chest. Only sometimes, that is, and only if they’re both worn out.

 

It’s the quiet, Tobin reasons, as Mason falls swiftly to sleep and the silence of the house draws tears to her eyes. She just isn’t used to the quiet. But that will change. Soon she’ll forget there ever was a tall, gorgeous blue eyed woman that wandered the halls, with smiling lips and a laugh like bells and a heart warm enough for Tobin to make her home in.

 

Soon she’ll forget that there ever was an Alex Morgan at all.

 

At least, that’s what they keep telling her.

 

But it’s not the quiet. Not this time. And she knows it, because that morning, they had come. They had come for her.

 

She’s just finished feeding Mason when there’s a knock on the door. Tobin rolls her eyes, shouts, “It’s open!” as loud as she can, because Jeri’s been there for two weeks now and still thinks she has to knock on the door.

 

Mason fusses quietly at her loud words, pouts profusely, her lips quivering up at her. Tobin rolls her eyes at Mason too, because she wasn’t even being that loud, and it’s a little ridiculous that—Mason’s pouting lips turn even further down, and Tobin sighs and presses the little bundle closer to her, presses her hand against her warm tiny back and tsks her tongue in as much of an affectionate tone as she can muster.

 

“I’m not yelling at you, my little Mason-bug,” she tries to hum soothingly, and then dares to peek at the infant to check her reaction. Mason remains fiercely unamused, but the sharp divot of her forehead relaxes and Tobin does too, smiling brightly.

 

Tobin hears the door knob twist as she puts away Mason’s bottle, and calls out a quick greeting to Jeri while trying to keep Mason centered securely on her chest. It’s not easy. The little girl is quite the squirmer, and it’s put the two of them in more daring situations than Tobin cares to admit.

 

“I’m telling you, Jeri,” Tobin calls out absentmindedly, happy to have someone to talk to again after a few hours of solitude. It’s easy to pretend things are okay when she’s talking about anything else, and Mason is not an excellent conversationalist. “This kid is just like Alex was. I dare to do one thing that isn’t on this one’s itinerary for the day and she death stares me. It’s terrifying, frankly,” Tobin hums in amusement, and Mason, like she just somehow knows Tobin is talking about her, stares up and pouts, her blue eyes bright and demanding.

 

Tobin can’t help the smile that spreads over her features. It’s a look she’s seen countless times on Alex’s face, and it settles a lightness over her that she hasn’t really felt since the night Alex left them. She grins down at the little girl’s face, and before Mason can work herself up enough to cry, stoops down and kisses her nose with a loud smack.

 

The resulting wide, blue eyed shock sends Tobin into a fit of giggles, and before long the little girl is copying her and giggling right back.

 

The sound just about stops Tobin’s heart.

 

She shakes her head and straightens with a sigh, tucks Mason back into her side securely as she continues to clean, and calls out to Jeri once more.

 

“Then again, she is exactly like Alex, so maybe it won’t be that much of a problem after all,” Tobin muses.

 

She hears more shuffling down the hall, figures that Jeri is just taking an annoyingly long time to take her shoes off and hang her coat up. Tobin starts looking through the fridge for the night’s dinner as Mason fists a collection of Tobin’s hair in her hand and tugs with all her might, which Tobin is grateful to find particularly lacking.

 

“Easy there muscles. It’s a lot less fun to play with if you yank it out,” Tobin hums to the tiny girl as she grabs a container of lasagna and sets it on the counter. She closes the fridge after making sure Mason hasn’t somehow gotten one of her limbs attached to the door—the little monkey insists on grabbing things—and sets the container on the counter as she hears footsteps approach the kitchen.

 

“Hey Jeri?” she hums thoughtfully, popping the lid off the container and shifting Mason from one arm to the other. “Do you think you can handle Mase and dinner for a sec? I want to call my parents. My mom’s been on the verge of a nervous breakdown ever since I sent them back home—”

 

Tobin cuts off as she looks up and sees Jeri standing in the kitchen doorway, a tight smile on her face. She isn’t alone. Tobin takes a step back as her heart plunges downwards into her stomach. Mason yanks harder at her hair, makes a weird, satisfied noise.

 

“Pam. Michael,” Tobin swallows nervously as her eyes flit over Alex’s parents. There’s another man behind them, one she doesn’t recognize, who carries a long coat and a briefcase. Her eyes travel questioningly back to Jeri, who refuses to meet her eye. “What are you doing here?”

 

Mason squirms against her side when Tobin’s grip on her tightens.

 

Jeri is the first of all of them to move and break the silence. Her smile widens when it falls to Mason, and she steps into the kitchen and snatches up the container of lasagna, puts it in the microwave and then walks over to Tobin, arms extended towards the infant in her arms.

 

“They just want to talk to you, Tobin. I can take Mason for a while,” Jeri says, and when Tobin’s grip doesn’t relinquish and she takes a step back, her movements become that much more softer and soothing. “They just want to talk,” she says gently, and her hands come up to grab Mason until Tobin has little choice in letting her go.

 

Mason’s fist refuses to release the strand of her hair that it has claimed, and when Jeri reaches up to lightly tug it from her fingers, the little girl starts to cry.

 

Tobin’s heart starts to pound.

 

Jeri coos softly to the little girl, rocks her in her arms as she tries to settle her down, and flashes Tobin a smile that doesn’t necessarily reach her eyes.

 

“Has she been up all day?” she asks, and before Tobin can confirm or deny, plows on through with her sentence. “I’ll go upstairs and put her down to sleep,” And just like that, Jeri and Mason disappear, and Tobin is left alone.

 

She swallows nervously, makes hesitant eye contact. The microwave beeps signalling it’s completion, but Tobin doesn’t move to grab the food.

 

“What--.” The words are thick in her mouth. “What can I do for you?”

 

Pamela immediately opens her mouth to speak, but Michael shushes her, holds out a hand and then turns weary, careful eyes Tobin’s way.

 

“Maybe we should sit down?” he offers, and Tobin nods stiffly, uncertain. She has an odd sensation of being threatened, an intense feeling of unrest as they walk into the dining room and sit at the table. The microwave beeps, growing angrier at Tobin’s neglect.

 

They sit in awkward silence, refusing to make eye contact with one another, until Michael clears his throat and speaks again.

 

“How are you doing, Tobin?” he asks her casually, and she pretends not to notice the way he wrings his hands. “How is Mason doing?”

 

Tobin is calm, careful in her response. Something isn’t right. She can tell by the anger in Pamela’s eyes.

 

“Good,” she says, but it’s hollow. “Jeri has been helping me,” she says, and Michael nods immediately, smiles softly for the first time.

 

“Yes, she’s told us,” he says immediately, and Tobin stops, shifts, raises an uncertain brow.

 

“Jeri’s talked to you?” she asks searchingly, untrusting. Michael begins to feel the situation slipping away from him. He chuckles awkwardly, clears his throat.

 

“Um, yeah—.”

 

“Why are you here?” Tobin cuts them off suddenly, her jaw locking tightly, her hands clenching underneath the table. “What do you want? You made it pretty clear last time that you wouldn’t be involving yourselves,” Tobin says, and she tries hard to keep herself calm and rational, but the longer she looks at them the more she remembers their angry words, remembers the way they made Alex—and herself, long after Alex had fallen asleep against her—cry.

 

Pamela shifts suddenly, her blue eyes flashing.

 

“I’ll tell you what we want, Tobin Heath--,” she starts, but Michael cuts her off again with a firm glance.

 

“We’re very sorry about the way things ended, Tobin. We were all very distraught at the time. I’m sure you remember,” he says, and Tobin fights the screams that build up in her throat, because of course she fucking remembers her wife bleeding out on a small, cold, white hospital bed.

 

It’s not the kind of thing someone just forgets.

 

“Some of us are still distraught,” she says with indifference, and Michael draws an awkward breath, nods uncertainly.

 

“We all still miss Alex, Tobin. But sooner or later you have to move on.”

 

Tobin doesn’t respond to them, the angry fire burning in her lungs is too much. She feels sick, disgusted that she has to have this conversation, nauseous that Jeri would leave her to have it alone.

 

She doesn’t doubt that they still miss Alex. What she doubts is their quick assertion that her grief should have a time table. Her feelings for Alex have never been cookie cutter in the way they desire, and just because of Alex’s newfound absence doesn’t mean any of that has changed.

 

But she doesn’t try to explain herself because she knows that, just like before, they simply won’t understand.

 

“We know this has been hard on you, Tobin,” Michael says suddenly, and Tobin feels that maybe he’s finally getting to the point. “We want to help you. We want to make it a little easier.”

 

For one moment, Tobin almost dares to feel a relief. It has been a lot trying to juggle Mason between just her and Jeri, and in the absence of her parents, a little help would be fantastic. Tobin could get some time back for herself, could step onto a soccer pitch again.

 

Her joy dies quickly.

 

“We’d like Mason to come and live with us.”

 

Tobin doesn’t comprehend at first, because it just doesn’t make sense for Mason to be anywhere that isn’t with her. She tries to think of what Alex would say to them if she were here, tries to think logically about what they might be suggesting. But it just doesn’t make sense.

 

“What? Why would she live with you? I’m her—.”

 

Pamela cuts her off.

 

“Her mother?” Pamela laughs, her voice bitter. Michael’s looking at her again, warning her, but she’s not listening this time. “Tobin, no. You’re not. Alex was her mother. Jeri and Jeni are her aunts. Michael and I are her grandparents. But you? You’re nothing to her. Nothing to anyone anymore.”

 

Silence engulfs the table. The man with the briefcase looks down awkwardly. Michael balks and stares at Pamela with wide, shocked eyes.

 

Tobin opens her mouth but finds she doesn’t have a response. She wishes fervently for Alex once more, because she’s never had to face her parents alone before and it’s utterly terrifying.

 

“Alex and I decided to have Mason together. She’s ours,” Tobin says immediately, because it’s a learned line Alex taught her long ago when similar fears had surfaced. Tobin had been uncertain, Alex had been comforting, and she had felt--for one of the first times-- like it was really true, like Mason could actually really belong to the both of them.

 

But Alex isn’t here now. Tobin’s alone, and the longer the three people before her continue to look at her, the more isolated she feels.

 

The man with the briefcase speaks for the first time.

 

“Unfortunately, Miss Heath--.”

 

“It’s Mrs. Heath,” Tobin cuts him off with a sharp glare. She doesn’t like him, doesn’t trust the way he stares about idly and drums his fingertips against the wood of the table, “I’m married,” Tobin says curtly.

 

“Right, my apologies Mrs. Heath,” he returns dryly, uncaring. “The fact of the matter is that yourself and Miss Morgan--.”

 

“It’s Heath,” Tobin demands again, her fingers tightening against the edges of her seat, her jaw setting. “That’s my wife’s name. It’s Alex Heath.”

 

“The fact of the matter is that yourself and your wife failed to ever properly document the custody of the child in the unfortunate event of decease.” The man continues smoothly, as if Tobin had never spoken to him.

 

Tobin shakes her head the instant he finishes speaking, straightens her back and glares.

 

“That’s ridiculous. We’re married. She listed myself as the recipient of her possessions two months into our engagement, and I did the same. Mason’s custody falls to me, as her spouse, in the event of her death,” Tobin says without pause. She knows it be true, it’s what the lawyer had said the day they had gone, it’s what Alex had said.

 

The man shakes his head, and Tobin starts to feel sick.

 

“Unfortunately,” he starts, but Tobin doesn’t feel any kind of remorse from him. “You did not update your wills before the birth of the child--.”

 

“She came early! We didn’t have time,” Tobin objects, but the man does not pause to heed her words.

 

“You did not update your wills before the birth of the child, and as you are of no blood relations to her, it is another matter entirely on where she should be placed.”

 

Tobin lunges forwards suddenly in her seat, but not in the direction of the man. She faces Pamela and Michael instead.

 

“Bullshit,” her tone is flat and filled with barely contained anger. “Bullshit,” she repeats, because it’s the only word she can find to let them know how utterly insane they are being.

 

“Mom. Dad.”

 

There’s movement in the hallway, and all four of them turn to see Jeri approaching. She walks in without invitation, sits next to Tobin and stares over at her parents.

 

“You can’t be serious,” Jeri continues. “You can’t actually be going through with this.”

 

Michael moves to say something, contracts his face into a slightly guilty expression, but Pamela beats him to it.

 

“I can’t believe you would defend her,” Pamela says immediately, rather brutally, an anger in her voice. “I can’t believe you and Jeni would dare to defend her. She took your sister from us, Jeri. She took Alex. And now you’d let her take and ruin the one thing left of her? I won’t let her. Not this time. Not again.”

 

Jeri is shaking her head before Pamela has even finished, adamant and angry.

 

“Alex dying wasn’t Tobin’s fault, Mom!”

 

Tobin doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, because maybe she understands.

 

Maybe she does blame herself. Maybe it does feel like her fault.

 

If they had just waited a little longer--if she had been brave enough to carry Mason instead of Alex, maybe things would be different.

 

Maybe they’d still be together, happy, in love, exactly as they were supposed to be.

 

Maybe she’d be dead, and Alex would be here instead.

 

Tobin isn’t sure which one she prefers anymore.

 

She cuts off the argument between Jeri and Pamela just as it begins to come to a head, stops it before Pamela’s face turns any more red than it already is, before Jeri can shed another tear.

 

She turns and gives her attention to the man with the briefcase.

 

“What does this mean?” she says, direct.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

“I’m sorry, Miss Heath. Unless a document is produced where the mother names you the legal guardian of her child, it is up to the court to decide who receives custody. On the third of next month, you will be expected to appear before a panel along with Pamela and Michael. They will decide to whom the girl belongs.”

 

The silence that overtakes the room is deafening. Jeri is rigid by her side, tear stricken. Pamela won’t look at either of them. Michael can only focus on his hands.

 

The man stands up and the other two follow suit, leaving Jeri and Tobin at the table alone.

 

“I--we’re sorry, Tobin,” Michael says suddenly. She looks up and meets his gaze wearily.

 

“No,” she says quietly, mostly to herself. “No you’re not.”

 

He doesn’t seem to have an answer for her. He sighs deeply, runs a hand through his hair, grabs his coat from where it rests on the back of his chair.

 

“We’ll leave her with you until the court ruling.”

 

It’s suppose to be comforting, but it isn’t. The three of them leave, and then it’s just Tobin and Jeri, but Jeri only lasts a few moments before she shoots up angrily, a fire in her eyes that reminds Tobin very much of Alex.

 

Jeri follows her parents from the room, screaming words Tobin isn’t focused enough to distinguish. She doesn’t realize how comforting the noise is until the door slams and plunges the house into silence.

 

It’s overwhelming.

 

Tobin tries to listen for the familiar patter of Alex’s feet against the old wood of the floor, but hears nothing.

 

She puts her head down into her hands and lets herself cry.

 

* * *

_July 30, 2020._

  
Jeri had left them a week later at Tobin’s prompting. She’d already been there for too long. The meeting with her parents had only solidified it. Tobin was tired of pretending things would be okay. Jeri had fought with her about it for a while, but had eventually given in. She had her own life to get back to, after all.

 

It hurt Tobin more than she had expected when she had hugged her goodbye, had kissed Mason sweetly on the cheek, had reminded her of when Alex had left her apartment in Paris after coming to visit.

 

Of course, those feelings had been slightly more agonizing. Alex had left, and Tobin hadn’t been able to breathe. That should have been her first sign, really, that Alex was meant to belong to her. Perhaps if she had realized it back then, they could have had more time together--forever, maybe.

 

But perhaps forever would have been too much time.

 

Tobin knows that isn’t true, but if she lies to herself, it makes everything a little more easier.

 

No, Jeri had left and Tobin had simply felt. It had been a slight tug on her heart, a gentle pull at the massive hole in her chest, and then Jeri had left and there had been nothing.

 

“Take care of her, Tobin,” Jeri had told her, after kissing her cheek lightly. “And take care of yourself, too. This whole thing with my parents, it will blow over. I promise. They won’t-- _we_ won’t let them do that, okay?” she had asked, and Tobin had nodded, trying hard not to think too long on it.

 

“Oh, and don’t think that just because I’m gone, I’m going to leave you all alone,” she had said, slightly teasing, and Tobin had smiled for the first time in a while.

 

The house is quiet without Jeri there.

 

Mason shifts around across Tobin’s chest, makes soft, disgruntled noises in her sleep, and Tobin runs a careful, gentle hand over the soft cotton of her blue pajamas, making sure the little girl is comfortable and intact.

 

She’s so small in Tobin’s arms, so little against the wide expanse of her torso, and Tobin wonders how anything can be so fragile, so needy, and still manage to survive.

 

\-----

 

_“What do you mean ‘how?’” Alex giggles at her from her place on the bed as she sits, surrounded by an impressive spread of parenting books. Tobin stands at the foot of the bed, unfortunately stuck folding clothes. Her hands falter over the crease of a cream long-sleeved top--one of Alex’s--as she takes a moment to observe her wife from her spot in front of her._

 

_She’s more relaxed than Tobin has seen her in a while, mostly due to the amount of uninterrupted time together her maternity leave from soccer has brought them. Her pink lips are uplifted and happy, hair pulled up into an adorable messy bun, gaze fixed on the big font of her books._

 

_She’s in Tobin’s tarheel hoodie because she “needed” it, whatever that means. Two long, tan legs stretch out from underneath the light blue fabric and criss cross at her ankles, leaving her in a gentle, lounging position._

 

_She’s starting to show. Tobin can see a subtle but noticeable bulge of her abdomen, pressing into her sweatshirt and pushing it up and out of place. The sight makes Tobin’s heart flutter._

 

 _“I mean, like,_ how _, you know?” Tobin asks her, big eyes and small, sly smiles, and Alex rolls her own bright blue eyes, purses her lips together, hums thoughtfully._

 

_“Well, they need their mom, obviously,” Alex says easily, unconcerned, but then she notices the pause in Tobin’s motions, the stutter in her step, and her gaze flashes up to hers quickly. “Moms,” she emphasizes strongly, without hesitation._

 

_Tobin gives her a smaller, lesser smile._

 

_“S’okay, Lex. It’s true, you know. I won’t be their mom. Not really,” Tobin says, more thoughtful than sad._

 

_There’s a long moment of silence as Tobin puts away Alex’s clothes, carefully sorting away her shorts and shirts and underwear. She hears Alex shift around behind her but doesn’t think much of it until she calls out to her._

 

_“Tobin,”Alex says, and it's soft and surprisingly shy. Tobin turns around to her quickly, finds the books set aside on the dresser table and the bed cleared, containing only a very inviting looking Alex._

 

_Tobin smiles wide at her, walks towards her, hovers by the edge of the bed._

 

_“Whatcha need, kiddo?” she asks her warmly, watches the blue of Alex’s eyes melt and simultaneously feels the tight squeeze of her own deteriorating heart at the sight._

 

_Alex stretches her arms out to her, hides her yawn with a smile._

 

_“Will you come cuddle with me for a bit?” she asks, and again it’s uncharacteristically hesitant._

 

_Tobin doesn’t need to be told twice. She clears the remaining distance between them quickly, wraps her arms around the woman she loves and pulls her tight to her chest, rubs the bottom of her chin against the top of Alex’s head as she nuzzles into her securely._

 

_Alex’s eyes flutter closed as she breathes her in, and Tobin feels the deep sigh of her body as she relaxes completely into her, her soft fingers grabbing at the tops of her t-shirt’s shoulders and holding fast._

 

_“I love you so much, Tobin Heath,” she tells her, and Tobin feels a smile spread its way across her face before she can stop it. She presses her lips into the side of Alex’s face, hums softly as Alex’s muscles contract around her._

 

_“Yeah?” Tobin responds, lets her eyes close as Alex chills her out. “Me too,” she says, and then smirks when Alex laughs._

 

_A gentle familiar hand grabs at her own, and while Tobin raises an eyebrow, she doesn’t open her eyes, just lets Alex move it where she will._

 

_The skin she ends up touching is firm, solid under her probing finger tips, resistant. She lets her eyes flutter open carefully and finds Alex looking at her, watching carefully._

 

 _“Well if you know that,” Alex says, spreading Tobin’s hand across the smooth curve of her stomach. “Then it shouldn’t be too hard for you to understand that you_ will _be the baby’s mom,” Alex says matter-of-factly, and Tobin laughs at her._

 

_“Whatever you say, Alex,” Tobin says, far too content to argue with her, but Alex shifts and tugs at her sleeve, pouts up at her._

 

 _“I’m serious Tobin,” she whines, a soft divot forming between her eyebrows that Tobin reaches to smooth out with her thumb. “Just because we couldn’t_ make _love to get the baby--.”_

 

_“Gross, Alex.” Tobin protests immediately, nudges her sharply in the side with her other hand, still keeping her palm steady against her stomach._

 

_“--doesn’t mean our love didn’t bring the baby about,” Alex concludes, grabbing back at Tobin’s side, making her squirm._

 

_Tobin sighs deeply, shifts a bit, presses a reassuring kiss to her lips, strokes a calming hand over her belly._

 

_“I know Lex, it’s just that technically--.”_

 

_“Screw technically,” Alex says immediately, her eyes burning hot into Tobin’s. “We aren’t talking about technicalities. We’re talking about you and me,” Alex says shortly, and Tobin nods her head obediently and shuts her mouth before Alex can get even more worked up. She keeps her touches soft and gentle against her stomach, keeps her kisses soothing and short._

 

_“And you and me, we can do anything together, you know? We’ve done everything together and we can do anything together,” Alex says simply, nuzzling into her side, and Tobin nods her head, rubs her cheek against Alex’s. “So if I say you’re his mom, then you’re his mom,” Alex says shortly._

 

_Tobin laughs then, pulls back and gives her a long, amused look._

 

_“Him, huh?” she questions her, only laughing further at the blush that spreads across Alex’s cheek. “You’re still stuck on that?”_

 

_Alex hides in Tobin’s neck._

 

_“It just slipped out,” she says, her voice muffled by the collar of Tobin’s shirt, and Tobin pulls her back gently so she can kiss her, her lips finding her nose and then her cheek and then, briefly, her mouth._

 

_“It’s okay, Alex,” she tells her, rubs her other hand against her back and watches as Alex settles back into her._

 

_“I’ll be his mom if that’s what you want,” she tells her, and Alex looks up at her, eyelashes brushing against her skin._

 

_“It’s not what I want,” Alex says, ignoring the look Tobin flashes her, because they both know that isn’t entirely true. “It’s about what you want.”_

 

_Tobin’s quiet for a moment, debating._

 

 _“I want you, Lex. Always have. From the first moment you looked at me. That’ll never change,” Tobin tells her, thinks over her words once more, tightens her hand against her stomach, makes her presence there known. “I want_ all _of you. And that includes him.”_

 

_Alex sighs into her skin, and after a short time, Tobin kisses her sleeping form._

 

_She’s right, Tobin supposes._

 

_As long as they’re together, they can do anything._

 

\-----

 

They’re not together now.

 

* * *

_July 31, 2020._

 

There’s a rhythmic knock on the door, one that wakes Tobin from the slumber that provided the only escape from her living hell. The midfielder pushes herself up off the floor next to Mason’s playpen, where the month-old was peacefully taking a nap, looking over at her and sighing.

 

“You don’t have a clue as to what’s going on, do ya bud?” Tobin whispers, unsure whether or not she should be jealous of Mason’s inability to comprehend.

 

Before she can ask the sleeping baby another rhetorical question, the knock comes again, reminding Tobin of why she woke up in the first place and forcing her to head towards the door.

 

She’s greeted by a somber-faced Kelley who has two duffel bags, a briefcase, and three suitcases by her side. A Kelley whose calls, texts, and even emails she’d been dodging since the day of the funeral.

 

“Uh,” Tobin starts, confused by the sight. She isn’t quite sure of what to make of the situation. “Hey, Kells.”

 

The response is short, which in all honesty, Tobin doesn’t blame her for.

 

“Hi.” Kelley throws a duffel bag towards Tobin as she invites herself in, all her belongs in tow.

 

Tobin sinks a bit under the heavy weight of the bag, stumbling after Kelley, who immediately heads upstairs. “What… what are you doing here?”

 

“Saving your ass,” Kelley replies with a certainty that Tobin’s hesitant to question. Regardless, she follows the defender upstairs, wearily eyeing all of the luggage Kelley’s brought with her.

 

The widow watches as her best friend roams around the guest room. She’s not quite sure where to start the conversation, so she waits as Kelley pulls out clean sheets from the dresser and starts setting up the bed--begins to make the room hers.

 

When the final pillow is snug in its case, Kelley hugs it before plopping down on the bed, turning to face Tobin.

 

“Are you ready to talk, or do you want to wait until all your clothes are unpacked, too?”

 

The shorter girl narrows her eyes. “You don’t get to be smart with me, Tobin Heath.” She averts her gaze to look out the window before asking, “Where is she?”

 

 _‘Six feet under,’_ Tobin thinks, but she knows that’s not who Kelley’s referring to. “Sleeping.”

 

“How’s she doing?”

 

“Okay, I think…”

 

Kelley nods when Tobin doesn’t elaborate in understanding, choosing to change the subject instead. She looks at her right in the eyes before asking, “Why didn’t you answer my calls, Tobs?”

 

Tobin cringes at the tone of Kelley’s voice. “I was dealing with… a _lot_ , Kelley.”

 

“Yeah, well so was I.” Kelley’s eyes are hard and unforgiving, but Tobin doesn’t look away. Hazel eyes are a welcome change from the blue ones she’d been staring into for the past month, no matter how angry they may be.

 

“That’s not fair--.”

 

“ _Nothing_ about this is _fair_ , Tobin. But you just left me out to dry.”

 

“You can’t be serious right now. You have _no_ idea what I’m going through--.”

 

“Yeah, I do! I lost my best friend, Tobin. And besides the whole death thing, I know _exactly_ what you’re going through. I had to _pry_ it out of Jeri, because you wouldn’t answer my calls, and that really _fucking_ _sucked_. I called _everyone_ to try to get in touch with you.” Kelley’s voice is surprising level, indicating that there isn’t much anger--just hurt. Hurt that had been harbored for a while. “Your parents, Jeri, Jeni, Jeff, Katie, Perry. I even tried Michael and Pam.

 

“But you know what? What’s worse is that you didn’t even bother to think about how _I’d_ been feeling. You couldn’t even fucking call.”

 

“Maybe because my _wife_ just _died_ , Kelley. Did you ever think about that? And if you know what’s going on in my life--that I am in the middle of fighting for custody over the _one. thing._ I have left of her--why are you here? To yell at me? To make me feel even _worse_ than I already fucking do?”

 

“I already told you. I’m here to save your ass, as always.” Kelley gets up from the bed to grab the suitcase she brought with her. She rummages around with it for a while before producing a folder and clutching it in her hands, crinkling the folder’s contents. “ _This_ is Alex’s will.”

 

Tobin’s eyes are wide and she snatches the folder from Kelley, who gives it up without protest. “Why do you have that?”

 

“Because you thought she was being ‘silly’ when she started getting nervous about labor, and she didn’t want to worry you. So she came to me with the burden. Thanks for that, by the way. Calming her down by myself was fun.”

 

“Kelley--,” Tobin starts, anger flaring, but she’s cut off once again.

 

“No, I just,” Kelley says, holding up her hand. “If we start this now, we’re never going to stop, so how about we don’t?”

 

She doesn’t bother to wait for Tobin’s response before continuing. "Read through it and hand it to your lawyer. He'll talk to the Morgans' attorney, and that should clear things up for Pam and Michael about custody.”

 

Kelley pushes past Tobin rather forcefully and starts heading towards the living room to the baby she’s met only once before at a funeral that seems like ages ago, and Tobin is left dumbfounded, staring at the folder in her hands.

 

There’s a moment of hesitation as Tobin wonders if it would be the best idea for her to even read it. But her hands tear open the folder and her eyes scan the contract before her head can fully begin to wander.

 

_“If I do not survive my wife, and it is necessary to appoint a guardian, I, Alex Morgan Heath, being of sound mind and body, hereby appoint Tobin Powell Heath as the guardian of my child. If, for any reason, Tobin Heath does not act as guardian, I appoint Jeri Rose Morgan as guardian of the minor child.”_

 

There’s a sigh of relief that exits her body. It lifts her heart up from the pit in her stomach where it had been residing since the meeting with the Morgans and their lawyer. And as soon as it’s in its place, it wrenches in guilt at the way Tobin has been treating Kelley, not just since she’s entered the house, but starting from the day Alex had left her. No, not just her. Left them both. Left them all.

 

The feeling doesn’t sit well with Tobin, and she runs her hands through her uncombed hair, frustrated at herself for allowing her self-pity to get this far. Because Alex didn’t just leave _her_. She left everyone around her, too.

 

Tobin makes her way down to the living room and watches from the entry, leaning against the frame while Kelley looks down into the playpen as Mason sleeps, unphased by the presence of a stranger in her home.

 

The midfielder breaks the tension that’s been looming over them for the first time since their friendship began all those years ago. “Kelley, I…” She can’t finish the thought, so she changes it. “How long are you staying?”

 

Kelley shrugs and doesn’t bother to turn around, continues staring down at the little life in the playpen and simply responds, “As long as you need.”

 

Tobin ends up needing her for a long time.

 

* * *

_August 30, 2020._

  
“Fuck!”

 

Tobin hears her cry echo throughout Providence Park as she watches her shot sail high above the crossbar for what seems like the umpteeth time.

 

“How the hell did you make it look so easy, Lex?” She speaks into the void and plops down on the ground, regretting it the instant her sore legs slap against the turf.

 

And for a second, she hears Alex’s bright laugh. The one where she was always doubled over, hands on her knees and breath caught in her throat. Tobin hears Alex’s classic smart remark of, “I’m just that much better than you.”

 

She smiles to herself for a moment as she lets the memories carry her back to a happier time.

 

\-----

 

_“Shut up, no you’re not.” Tobin teasingly pushes Alex away from her. Alex retaliates by kicking a ball at her shins, eyes wide as the ball hits Tobin harder than expected._

 

_Tobin quirks an eyebrow, shooting Alex a knowing look before clutching her shin and flopping wildly._

 

_“Oh no. I’ve been shot! I’m bleeding, Alex.”_

 

_Alex rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face as she starts to walk away blows her cover._

 

_“You’re just gonna leave me out to dry, Lex?”_

 

_The forward shakes her head and walks back to her girlfriend, offering her a hand and helping her up._

 

_“Your acting--.”_

 

\-----

 

“Needs work.”

 

Kelley’s voice startles her back to reality.

 

“What?”

 

“Your shot.” Kelley arrives at the eighteen and offers her friend a hand. “It needs work.” Tobin stares up at the defender for a moment before allowing Kelley to help her up.

 

They stare at the goal together, where there are at least forty balls scattered around it. Kelley makes her way over and starts returning her balls.

 

“Where’s Mason, Kelley?”

 

“Allie has her,” Kelley reassures before continuing her critique. “You’re leaning back too much. You look like Carli when she shanks a shot.”

 

“She’d punch you square in the face if she heard you say that, you know.”

 

“Good thing she’s not here.” Kelley walks back over once she’s done sending balls back Tobin’s way. She plays with a ball as she explains, “You need to plant your foot back a little. You’re too far ahead, that’s why you lean back, and that’s why the ball goes sailing. Like this.”

 

Touching the ball forward, Kelley stutter-steps up to it, then strikes it perfectly with the top of her foot, generating enough power with just enough backspin to make it dip under the crossbar.

 

She smiles at Tobin’s wide eyes and flashes her a grin. “I scored more than Alex did in college.”

 

“She’d punch you square in the face if she heard you say that, you know.”

 

“Good thing--.” Kelley noticeably freezes before clearing her throat. “I know.”

 

“You can say it. She’s not here.” There’s no malice in Tobin’s voice.

 

Kelley stares at her for a bit, analyzing her face for the slightest bit of pain. When she doesn’t find any, she nods. “Good thing she’s not here.”

 

There’s a weight that lifts from both their shoulders. It’s the first time since the night Kelley moved in that either one of them have mentioned her.

 

They move on quickly, willing to admit Alex’s departure but unwilling to let it sit for too long.

 

“Go to midfield and pass me a ball, would ya Kells?” Tobin asks, and the defender obliges, jogging back to center circle.

 

Tobin passes Kelley a ball, which Kelley then takes out to the flank and charges endline, cutting the ball back to Tobin at the last possible second.

 

The midfielder mimics Kelley’s movements from just moments ago, stutter-stepping up to the oncoming ball, timing her run perfectly and sends it sailing into the upper corner.

 

“Goooooooal!” Kelley shouts. “Tobin Heath, in the right place at the right time, makes it 5-2 for the US!”

 

The two continue to run balls off of one another, practicing flank play, one-v-one, and shots until Tobin can’t feel her legs anymore.

 

This time when she falls to the turf, she isn’t alone, and the laugh that she hears isn’t one from her memories.

 

“Tuckered out?” Kelley asks, slapping Tobin’s stomach. “Your shot still sucks, but fitness and footwork wise, you haven’t lost a step. Dawn’ll be pleased when you get back to camp.”

 

Tobin laughs deeply, rolls her shoulders and shoots Kelley a wide grin.

 

“Oh come on, Kells. We both know Dawn’s _never_ pleased. Unless of course you’re--.”

 

“Heather O’Reilly,” Kelley adds, and they both fall into soft laughter.

 

“You’re definitely a close second though, in the grand scheme of things. She used to let you steal all that chocolate, remember?” Kelley asks her, sitting up a little, and Tobin rolls her eyes and shifts back.

 

“Yeah, but that was for--.” Tobin stumbles a little, swallows uncomfortably as the name refuses to form in her tongue. “That was for my pregnant, often hysterical wife. Not even my worst enemy could say no to her,” Tobin says, and a gentle smile forms along her features.

 

They sit in content silence for a moment, the silence of the stadium oddly comforting.

 

Things seem okay for a moment.

 

Suddenly though, the empty stadium seems like too much. The barren goal, the empty field, the absence of screaming fans and colorful kits. It's just too much.

 

And then things don't feel okay anymore.

 

“See?” Tobin says, her anger flaring. “This. _This_ is what I’m good at. _This_ is what I can do. I can _be_ a soccer player, Kells.” Tobin tells her, and her voice is as hard as her eyes as she meets Kelley’s gaze and holds it for a long moment.

 

She eventually looks away, rests her tired head in her hands, if only for a moment.

 

“I don’t know if I can _be_ a mom.”

 

“Well, I know you can,” Kelley says simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the word.

 

Tobin argues, shaking her head. “This wasn’t the plan.”

 

“What exactly was the plan?” Kelley knows it’s a stupid question before she even finishes the sentence, but Tobin’s already off.

 

“The plan was for her to be here. With me. The _plan_ Kells, was not for me to be stuck with this little infant that I can hardly take care of by myself. The plan was not for the little girl to be unfairly taken away from her mother, or for me to be reminded of my dead wife every time I look into her fucking eyes.” Tobin’s own are brimming with tears--a sight Kelley has seen too often lately.

 

“The plan was _not_ for me to be doing this alone.

 

“I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

 

It’s quiet for just a moment as Kelley lets everything sink in.

 

“Oka-ay,” she starts off, slowly, scared that if she starts too quickly, Tobin might ask her to stop. “First, can you do me a favor?”

 

“What?”

 

“Say her name, Tobin. Say her full name. She’s like this fucking black cloud that’s around the house and around your life. I’m not asking you to just… let go of her, or get over it. But at least say her name. I mean, I’m not gonna be a bitch and say it until you say it, so you’re gonna have to do it first.”

 

Tobin closes her eyes and holds her breath. It seems wrong. Like she’s moving on too fast, but she can feel Kelley’s eyes on her, burning holes through her in anticipation, so she gives in. “Alex. Alex Morgan Heath.”

 

“There you go, buddy. You broke the seal,” Kelley jokes, and Tobin can’t help but laugh at the comparison. “Okay. Now, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you suck, Tobin.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not doing this _alone_. You have Jeri, Jeni, Jeff, Katie, Perry, your parents. You have me. And you have Mason.” Kelley lays down next to Tobin, resting her head on her outstretched arm.

 

She repeats herself, this time with a certainty that Tobin doesn’t question. “You’re not alone.”

 

Tobin knows Kelley’s right. It feels weird to admit it, but she knows Kelley’s right.

 

“I’m not alone.”

 

“You have me.”

 

“I have you,” Tobin agrees, gently tapping Kelley’s head with her hand. “Until you go back to Jersey.”

 

They’re quiet for a few minutes, which is enough for Tobin, who at this point is exhausted both mentally and physically, to start dozing off. She almost doesn’t hear Kelley when she finally speaks again.

 

“What did you say, Kells?”

 

“I’m not going back to Jersey. I’m staying here, with you.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, Kells, you’re going back to Jersey.”

 

Kelley laughs dryly into Tobin’s shoulder. “I’m thirty-two, Tobin. My body’s giving out on me.”

 

“You can’t just stop your career for me, Kelley. You've already been here a month, you don't need to be here any longer. Besides, you still have a few good years.”

 

“Don’t think of it as for you, Tobin. Think of me doing it for Mason. Besides, like I said, my body was giving out. I was probably gonna retire at the end of next season.”

 

“Kells--.”

 

“Look, you might as well agree. I’ve already called Sky Blue and told them my plans. Say okay, Tobs.”

 

Tobin wants to feel awful. She wants so badly to feel terrible about the fact that Kelley is leaving behind her entire life to come take care of Mason. But she doesn’t.

 

Because Kelley leaving her life behind means Tobin can keep hers alive. She can keep playing the game she loves.

 

“Okay.”

 

It’s the first time since Alex’s death that she allows herself to be completely, utterly selfish.

 

She has a feeling it might not be the last.

 

* * *

_June 2, 2021._

  
Tobin feels alive again for the first time in a while. It’s hard not to.

The entire team is buzzing with energy, and it’s all due to the gold medals around their necks.

It’s the first time since Alex that the Thorns have won the NWSL championship, and it’s the first time things feel... _good_.

The youngsters on the team are particularly lively, and Tobin lets herself get sucked up into their cheer.

They are more than willing to celebrate with their captain. After all, she’s the reason they have the medals in the first place. It was her two goals that put them ahead of the Reign, her relentlessness that made sure they secured their lead and kept it.

She promised them at the beginning of the season that she’d bring them home.

\-----

_She watches along with everyone else in abject shock as Alex storms off the pitch and into the locker rooms, tearing off her Thorns jacket as she goes._

_Sinc goes to head after her but Tobin steps forward first and rushes after Alex instead._

_“It’s okay,” she tells their captain. “I’ve got it.”_

_It feels like a long walk down to the locker room as Tobin heads through the tunnel, long and lonely. She’s forgotten just how fast Alex can be when she doesn’t want to be caught._

_She hears the door slam up ahead and quickens her own pace, because she knows how Alex gets when she’s left upset and alone for too long._

_She throws the door open and sets to scanning the rows of lockers, hoping to see her blue eyed girl. She eventually finds her, jersey discarded and hands in fists, bright tears in her eyes._

_“I don’t want to talk to you Sinc!” she snaps without turning around, and Tobin watches the muscles of her back tense up, watches the top of her head dip._

_Tobin doesn’t say anything, just walks towards her on light feet, reaches out with a gentle hand and rests it on the small of her back._

_She feels Alex’s surprise jolt through her before she recognizes the touch. She relaxes somewhat, lets her hands unclench from their firm positions at her side._

_For a moment, they don’t say anything. Alex just leans into her hand, takes some deep breaths, and Tobin keeps her presence solid beside her._

_“Lex--.”_

_Tobin doesn’t get to say more. Alex turns with a quiet sob, and one minute she’s miles away from her and the next she’s got her arms around Tobin’s neck, her body pressed up into the open spaces Tobin makes for her._

_Tobin doesn’t hesitate. It’s rare for Alex to admit to needing comfort, and she lets her take it, wraps her arms around her middle and holds her tightly, runs a soothing hand through the length of her ponytail as Alex hides her face in her neck, tries to hide her sadness, her frustration._

_“What’s the matter, Alex?” Tobin asks her softly, with care, taking note of the way Alex tenses and relaxes, of the hitch in her breathing at certain words. “This isn’t like you. What’s happened?” She coos into her ear, presses a soft kiss to the skin below it._

_At first Alex just cries, releases all the stress she’s been keeping pent up, and Tobin lets her, because Alex loves to put the weight of the world on her shoulders, and sometimes Tobin forgets._

_Eventually Alex pulls away when she feels it’s safe and looks up at her with big tearing blue eyes, sniffles in a manner that tugs at the strings of Tobin’s heart._

_“I-I just--.” Her breathing, shallow and rapid, makes it hard for her to speak, and Tobin tsks her tongue, pulls her back in as she starts to understand just how upset Alex really is._

_“S’okay kiddo. Take some deep breaths. You’re fine. I’ve got you,” she tells her, rubs a hand over her back and waits for Alex to relax back into her, to calm back down._

_“Nothing’s going right,” she finally manages to sob out, and it stops Tobin in her tracks, freezes her right up, and she pulls away from her carefully._

_“What do you mean?” she asks, and a small amount of panic starts to pool in the bottom of her stomach, because Alex isn’t happy, and the more she speaks, the more Tobin thinks it’s because of_ her _._

_Alex sniffles, catches a few more sobs in her throat, holds onto her tighter, like she’s scared she might slip away._

_“We-we-we’re not_ winning _, Tobin,” she chokes out, whimpers softly. “We’re not winning anything,” she cries out, and Tobin tilts her head at her, confused._

_“What?” Tobin asks, caught off guard, her mind whirring to figure out just what could make Alex so upset with her. “What do you mean?”_

_At first Alex just shakes her head, refuses to speak, but Tobin becomes prodding the longer she keeps her silence, and eventually she stares up at her with miserable eyes._

_“We’ve been losing all our games and I can’t remember the last time I scored and I can’t connect with anyone on the field and I just-I just feel useless. Useless and--.” Another choking sob cuts Alex off and she buries her sorrow where she usually does--into the darkness of Tobin’s neck._

_“And what, Alex?” Tobin asks her carefully, still keeping her arms tight around her for security, for_ both _of their security._

_At first Alex just shakes her head in refusal and pulls her closer, but Tobin shifts so she’s sitting on the bench and pulls Alex down into her lap, rests her forehead against hers and lets Alex have control of her left hand._

_Alex calms down considerably when Tobin lets her lace her fingers through her own. Her hand stops at the white tape on Tobin’s ring finger, toys with it almost shyly._

_“Old,” Alex says eventually, her voice so low that at first Tobin doesn’t even hear it. “Useless and old.”_

_Tobin freezes beside her, because_ oh _, she suddenly understands exactly where Alex is coming from._

_She’s been different since she came back from visiting old college friends in California. Sure, she has her stories and her medals, but they have something else, something Alex wants more than anything._

_Something Tobin doesn't know if they’re ready for._

_“I want a baby, Tobin,” Alex tells her then--well, tells the corner of her shirt, really--and then Tobin feels as she tenses up at the revelation, as another soft sob catches in her throat. “and I know that it’s not--I know that you’re--_ I’m sorry, _Tobin,” She finally manages, and it’s so quiet and sad that Tobin’s heart just breaks._

_She gathers Alex up as close as she can, presses gentle kisses into the side of her face, strokes the water from her eyes and turns her chin towards her own, looks firmly at her._

_“Why are you sorry, Lex?” she demands immediately, because frankly, it’s ridiculous of her._

_Alex looks up at her with big blue eyes of confusion, sniffles uncertainly to herself as she blinks in contemplation._

_“Well...I know that’s not what you want, Tobin. And it’s okay, I just need you to kno--.”_

_“You want a baby,” Tobin states, and there’s an edge to her tone that stops Alex in her tracks, that has her ending her sentence before it finishes._

_Alex nods her head slowly and Tobin sits back, shrugs her shoulders, offers her a lopsided grin._

_“Then damn it Alex,” Tobin says with a laugh. “you’ll have a baby,” she tells her simply._

_Tobin swears she’s never seen Alex’s eyes shine so bright. Not even on the day of their wedding._

_“And we’re not that old, Lex,” she jokes. “you’re only thirty. Think about how HAO feels,” Tobin laughs._

_Alex closes the distance between them, kissing her strongly, firmly. With passion. When she pulls away, Tobin’s breathless, her heart racing._

_“Promise?” Alex asks suddenly, a sly smirk on her lips, a sparkle in her gaze. “Promise we’ll have a baby together?”_

_Tobin rolls her eyes, swats playfully at her as she stands and walks to her locker to change._

_“Yeah. I promise.”_

\-----

It’s a relief that Tobin’s finally been able to keep one of her promises.

The team stops at a bar to celebrate because hell, they’re _champions_ , and that kind of a title warrants a little bit of a celebration.

It’s all warm smiles and cold beer and the rookies of the team looking up at her with big eyes and chattering excitedly about how they simply _cannot believe_ what they just witnessed from her, and that kind of smooth talking warms Tobin right up to them, and soon she’s eagerly matching them shot for shot.

It feels good to let loose, and she hasn’t had so much to drink since before she and Alex were in their early twenties, eager to hit up whatever town they found themselves in, lost in the beauty of their youth and the beauty of their love.

The thought makes her cringe, and she drinks more to forget it, laughs louder to drown it out, smiles wider to leave less room behind for the pain to fester.

Eventually, she can’t even feel the dull thud of her heart against her chest.

Someone grabs her medal and shakes it, shakes _her_ , screams in her face about victory and perseverance, and she screams back because she has just played the game of her life, and she’s played it on her own, and she should be flying right now instead of stuck on the ground.

She lets herself grow wings, lets herself fly, lets herself feel free, because she _is_ free, she’s free from _everything_ now. All that’s left for Tobin Heath is Tobin Heath herself, and that’s fine, she can deal with that until Alex comes back for her, she can _handle_ that until Alex crawls back from wherever she is and apologizes for leaving her behind, for doing something so incredibly selfish, for _making_ her fall in love with her and then leaving her alone with all her love, leaving her with no one to give it to, leaving her with _no one_.

Tobin shakes her away, shakes it all away, drinks another glass of bitterness and lets it wash through her until she feels warm again, until she feels light.

She used to be fine when it was just herself. She used to be all she needed.

Maybe she can go back. It feels like she can go back.

She certainly played with the same fire that she used to have, so who is to say the rest can’t follow, what is there possibly that can stop her now? There’s certainly no blue eyed gaze that can stop her now.

The rookies suddenly call her over with big gestures and wide smiles, but before she can stand to join them, the glow of a screen stops her.

Her phone buzzes insistently, and Tobin’s eyes flicker to her phone, scan the message carefully.

_Kells: Tobs!! Mason said her first word. She dedicated it to you ;)_

“Tobin, come on!” her teammates shout, but for one of the first times, her focus isn't on them. “You’ve got to see the highlight reel they made of you!”

Her phone lights up again, and this time, there’s a twenty second video clip. Tobin hits the video without thinking about it, jabs her thumb against the screen of her phone until it plays.

Kelley’s voice immediately fills the space around her, and Tobin watches as she fumbles with the camera until it eventually comes to rest on a beautiful little giggling girl.

“Okay Mason, can you do it again for me kiddo?” Kelley sounds stressed, but there’s an element of glee to her voice that has flutters pushing within Tobin’s chest.

Mason just keeps giggling, her excitement obvious, her small blonde ringlets quivering with her happiness. Kelley laughs back at her, the sound rich and affectionate, loving.

“C’mon sweetheart. You know what to say. Can you do it for Tobin?”

The wings Tobin’s had for only a few moments suddenly fall off, and she finds herself crashing back into the ground.

Mason giggles cheekily, looks up into the camera with gorgeous, _Alex_ blue eyes.

“Mama!”


End file.
